Black cat, white mage
by Lotten
Summary: A lost princess.A mage running away from his past.A crippled warrior doing his best to forget the man he used to be.A young man carrying a terrible curse.All of them are inevitably drawn into an adventure where love might save them...or doom them. KuroFai
1. The lost princess

**Chapter One**

**The lost princess**

As many good stories do, this one begins with a child of royal birth gone missing. Except of course, that's not the whole truth of it. A story has many beginnings, all of them equally important. And in this story, it has to be noted, a good number of events were just as essential as the king and queen finding the princess' cot empty one morning.

This story also begins with a seer who thought he could take it upon himself to decide who ought to live, and who ought to die. It begins with a magician rebelling against the horrible price he was forced to pay for his magic. It begins with the boy with the cursed eye. It begins with the soldier who woke up after one battle to find that an arm was the least important thing he'd lost. It begins with the crown prince kneeling by the monument to his lost sister, vowing to always stay true to both his people and himself, so that if she ever returned, she'd have reason to be proud of him.

One beginning of this story – perhaps the most important one – concerns a young priest acolyte's heart breaking, although it happened so quietly and so gently, that no one even noticed.

But for the purposes of telling this very story, which would undoubtedly be a horribly tangled mess if one was to attempt to pursue all parts of it at once, the princess gone missing is a good way to start.

xxx

It was said that Princess Sakura was a kind and gentle soul even as a small child, but then again, it is hard to tell with three-year-olds. And of course, that was hardly the point in any case. When a child goes missing, it's always a tragedy, even if it should happen to be an awkward, surly child.

Syaoran was one such child, but he would've found it hard to believe that anyone would call it a tragedy if _he_ went missing. He had a hard time imagining that they'd call it anything at all, specifically because there was no "they". He had no one in the world. When he heard the little princess had gone missing, all he could feel was resentment that this useless little kid had a whole damn country caring about her.

He was seven at the time, although anyone who saw only his famished body would think he was maybe four, and anyone who saw only his eyes would think he was a hundred or more. He scrounged his living among the other street rats in the city slums, doing what he had to survive, and what he had to do included all manner of sins, some of which weren't his own.

It wasn't the sort of life that taught a boy to be good and kind, but he took a sort of fierce pride in at least not being any worse than he had to be. He never bullied money from kids who were smaller than him, and he never gave those who were worse off than him any trouble. That's about as far as his morals went. Any more of them would mean that he'd have to starve.

He certainly felt no twinge of remorse as he, twelve years old and desperate for food, snuck after the crippled man when he went into an alley. He was a big man, true, but Syaoran was better at fighting than his small size would suggest. Also, the man had no left arm, and the slight tremor in the right one combined with the small scars on his face from less-than-successful attempts at shaving said he was also a habitual drunk.

As soon as no one could see them, he darted forward, kicking the man in the back of the knee and tackling him hard in the small of his back, sending him tumbling forward. Using his momentum from the tackle, he swung a kick at the man's temple, wanting to knock him out as fast as possible so he could steal what money he had and be gone. But instead, his foot met with resistance, as if he'd just kicked a wall.

_The sonova just grabbed my foot! How the-_

He didn't even get to finish the thought before the man lifted his leg right up, bringing him off balance and throwing him into the wall. Syaoran managed to roll with the movement and break the fall, but his shoulder still received good thumping, and he grunted a curse as he straightened up. The cripple was on his feet too, but still slightly off-balance; it was probably trickier than it looked, getting to your feet with only one arm. Tough luck for him.

Syaoran was a bit more careful this time, feinting first toward the man's left side before kicking right, thinking that if he could put the bastard's arm out of commission, this fight was as good as won.

Except the stranger didn't fall for it. He smiled grimly, easily evading the kick and causing Syaoran to once more spin into a wall.

"You fight better than the average street brat," he commented in a rough voice. "But I've forgotten more about battle than you'll ever learn, kid. Sometimes it's best to just walk away."

Syaoran didn't deign this with an answer, other than swearing at the man, lashing out once more. This time, the cripple unbalanced him enough to make him fall, and before he knew it he was on his back with the man's boot placed on his chest. "How did a brat like you learn to fight like that, I wonder?"

Luck, that was how. A few years back, Syaoran had tried to pick the pocket of a strange-looking fellow in black clothes. He'd been caught, but the bloke had been very decent about it, giving him a few coins nonetheless. He'd been in quite a rush, and had probably not even noticed the letter slipping from his pocket.

Syaoran didn't know how to read, but he'd held on to it because there had been gold print on the envelope, and he liked the way it glinted in the sunlight. And a month later, a man called Seshirou was suddenly asking questions about someone who sounded a lot like the guy who'd dropped the letter. Syaoran had sought him out, thinking he might fetch a decent price for it, but he'd happened to walk in right in the middle of a bar fight, and he'd realized Seshirou was in possession of something a lot more valuable than money.

The ability to fight.

Of course he'd been clever enough to hide the letter before he went asking, not trusting someone who sounded pretty damn desperate for information to not just take it off him and piss off. The fellow had been surprisingly kind, though, and had agreed to his demands, staying there a month to train him. For a short while, it had almost been like having a friend.

Syaoran remembered crying when he went away.

Not that he was going to tell this jerk about all that. "How does a crippled drunk like _you_ know how to fight?" he spat back, trying unsuccessfully to get free.

The man snorted. "You ain't very clever, are you, kid? How d'you think I _lost_ the arm in the first place?"

Syaoran glowered. Admittedly, he'd walked right into that one on his own. After all, it made sense, now that he thought about it. The man was a war veteran. Pretty much all of them were drunks, as far as Syaoran knew – although what it was about war that made them that way, he really couldn't tell.

The cripple suddenly shook his head, removing his foot. "You're just a kid," he said decisively, and then laughed dryly when Syaoran glared even harder at him. "No shame in being just a kid, at your age," he said. "Believe me, I've met men twice as old as me who were still just kids. Noblemen, they call 'em."

This actually surprised a reluctant snigger out of Syaoran, and the man grinned. "The name's Kurogane. Now, let's get you that meal that you were trying to kick out of me. What do you say, kid?"

Syaoran was instantly on his guard again, jumping to his feet and backing off. He'd learned the hard way where trusting charity could get you. "If you want something, you'll still have to pay for it," he informed the man with a scowl. "A meal won't be enough."

At first, the cripple just stared at him, as if he really couldn't understand what Syaoran was talking about. Then his eyes suddenly narrowed, and he looked angrier than Syaoran had ever seen a person look before. He flinched, but strangely enough, he still wasn't very frightened. It didn't seem like the anger was directed at him so much as the world at large, a sentiment that Syaoran could definitely get behine.

"No, kid," Kurogane said in a voice that was rough with anger, but also something else. Sadness? "I don't want nothing out of you." Then, after a moment's struggle, a smirk stole over the man's face once more; the rage disappeared, but Syaoran had a feeling that it was still there, only hidden. "Come to think of it, there's one thing I _do_ want. I want you to promise me you ain't gonna try to rob me again. I'd hate to have to knock all the stuffing out of you."

xxx

Little Cat fell asleep quickly, warmed by the fire and calmed by the fact that their last heist had been so very successful. There was going to be no sleeping under the stars with the frost creeping over their blankets this winter, no worrying about her father because she couldn't help noticing how he kept giving her almost all the meager food there was. They were safe for a while, and Little Cat slept better for it. Her father, watching the restful smoothness of her forehead, vowed to himself that he'd try to keep it this way.

He wondered what the people who used to know him would say if they saw him now. He'd given up on his luxurious, flamboyant clothes in favor for a more somber garb that better suited his lifestyle. Pure white didn't do very well for someone who relied on hiding in shadows. He also wore his hair longer and braided, to keep it out of his face. The difference wasn't huge, because the flaxen mess of it seemed to rebel against all constraint and defy all laws of gravity and common sense, but at least he'd made the effort. He smiled a bit more seldom, but when he did, the smile was usually more genuine. And of course, he no longer used magic unless he had no other choice, which meant the blue was slowly fading from his eyes.

Nowadays, whenever he had a chance to look in a mirror, he saw the green color they'd been meant to be. The color he remembered seeing when he looked into his brother's eyes. The color of Fai's eyes.

That's what he called himself nowadays. Yuui was a name fraught with death and pain and guilt, so instead he'd taken on his dead twin's name. Another pointless gesture in a series of pointless gestures, none of which would ever bring his brother back.

He shook his head, dismissing these thoughts with a cynical smile, because they wouldn't bring Fai back either. Nothing would, so dwelling on it was pointless.

As if she could sense his distress, Little Cat extended a hand toward him in her sleep. He'd noticed that the girl sometimes seemed to know a lot more of what was going on in his heart than he was trying to let on. There really was something strange about her, something special, although he still wasn't quite sure what.

He wondered a bit wryly what the people he used to know would say about her. What would they say about the little stray cat he'd picked up on the way? What would they say about his adoptive daughter? About his partner in crime? About his sudden and unexpected raison d'être?

Yuuko would no doubt say that it was no coincidence that he'd found her in the middle of the forest, all those years ago. That it had been inevitable that he'd heard her cry and decided to go investigate. But she would probably say that his decision to pick the girl up, to comfort her and take her with him… this decision had been entirely his own. And then she'd smile that smile at him which suggested that she knew more than he did, that she always had and always would, but she would do _nothing_ to change what would happen. No matter the outcome, she would just watch, because that was her job.

He wanted to hate her for it. One day, he'd learn how to.

For now, he would pity her instead.

He sat up a bit straighter and stretched. This particular area was too unsafe for both of them to sleep at the same time, so it wasn't good to get too comfortable. If he fell asleep on his watch, they might be robbed of their newly acquired booty, and that would mean having to start out from scratch – and that was if they were lucky. In the case of a robbery, it was just as likely that they'd never wake up again. And even if things didn't turn out quite so grim, he was sure that Little Cat wouldn't pass up on such an excellent opportunity to tease him endlessly. Sometimes, he really thought he'd taught her too well.

Then again, he was quite proud of his handiwork with her. If you disregarded his magic – and most of the time, he did – Little Cat was every bit as dangerous as he was. Maybe more, because no one seriously believed that her pretty little face and petit frame belonged to a lethal fighter. She was small, and her reach was limited, so he'd taught her to throw daggers – and the sharp edges of her knives also served very nicely to make up for what she lacked in strength. His preferred method was simply to clobber people over the head with the plain wooden staff he carried. But of course, what they both did best was not to hit _others_ – it was to avoid others hitting _them_.

They made a lovely, if unexpected team. Big Cat and Little Cat were pretty well-known in certain circles by now, as two of the best – if perhaps not the most subtle – cat burglars in the business. It had gone so far that people actually had tried to hire them for assassinations as well. But those missions Fai had flatly refused, and he hadn't even told Little Cat about them. Maybe it wouldn't surprise her, or even upset her, but he still didn't want her to know. That much innocence he still wanted to grant her.

It was one thing to fight if you were cornered, if you had no other choice. Taking another's life on purpose was an entirely different matter, and Fai had vowed never to do it, no matter how noble the cause. He knew far too well what happened when people started thinking that the end justified the means.

Besides, he had a good life. Why would he want to change it? As long as he kept moving, the people in the Circle of Mages wouldn't be able to find him. Thanks to Little Cat, he was never lonely. There were times when he even forgot what he was, how he'd ended up on the roads in the first place; times when he thought of himself as an eternal drifter, born that way and destined to live out his days that way. In a way, it saddened him. But it also set him free, if only for a little while.

xxx

It was amazing, Touya thought dully, how Lord Rondart's soft voice could _grate_ so in his ears, until he wanted to shove his fist down the man's throat, and maybe that would make him _shut up_. He'd really thought the man was such a kind, unselfish fellow when he'd been introduced to him. He smiled all the time, was kind to children, never kicked the two large hunting dogs he kept, and donated large sums of money to the poor and destitute. He had a gods-damned _orphanage_ named after him, for crying out loud. Touya remembered thinking, upon finding this out, that the man was almost too good to be real.

Well, he was. The more the prince saw of him, the more he was convinced that the man was a self-serving, scheming, manipulative bastard. It was the perfect disguise, he supposed. Being nice didn't cost him much, and what he gained was everyone turning a blind eye whenever he did something that didn't fit the pretty picture they had of the Lord in their heads.

"…and I have to say that the situations is, quite plainly, unacceptable," he said with a apologetic little smile that Touya didn't buy even for a minute. "You know there are always unscrupulous people ready to take advantage of a situation like this, your Majesty."

_What, you mean like you, you pompous little twat?_ Touya thought bitterly, but of course he bit the words down. He didn't want to make the situation any worse on his parents. Even if he'd never agree that this was his _fault_, because he knew he was doing nothing wrong, it was definitely his responsibility. This was no time to act like the spoiled, selfish brat that Rondart was implying he was with every word that slithered out of his mouth.

And he wasn't the only one with that opinion either.

"I know of quite a few persons that match that description, yes," Fujitaka said mildly, and Touya was pretty sure that it was meant as a jibe. At least he was aware of what kind of creep Rondart was, although he probably knew better ways of dealing with him than the ones Touya was currently devising in his brain for his own private enjoyment. None quite as satisfying, though, if Touya knew his father right. "But what are you suggesting we do about this, as you call it, 'unacceptable situation', Lord Rondart?"

"Well," the man said, raising one eyebrow in a gesture that was too restrained to be an insult to the king's intelligence, but only just. "There's just one thing that _can_ be done, after all."

"The laws of this country," Nadeshiko said softly, but with something like steel in her gaze, "state that every citizen is free to do as he or she wishes with their life, as long as they harm no one else. This includes princes, I'm afraid. I hope you are not implying that my son should be forced into something he has expressly refused to do?"

"Oh no, of course not." The slimy bastard had the impudence to keep smiling. "I was merely hoping to talk some sense into him. No offence meant, of course, your Highness."

_No offence, my beautifully sculpted ass,_ Touya thought poisonously, but he once more swallowed the words. "None taken," he replied icily. "So what is your definition of 'sense' then, Lord Rondart?"

"You marry," the Lord said simply. "No, listen," he added when Touya opened his mouth, and angry retort on his tongue. "You marry some woman, whomever seems the most suitable, and you get at least one child with her. And then, you can have as many male lovers as you feel like, but the country would be safe. Forgive me for speaking so bluntly, my lord, but you must agree that it would be better if we stopped walking on eggshells around this whole business."

"And what of the woman?" Finally, Yukito spoke up, his voice as soft and sweet as ever, his face carefully expressionless. But Touya, who knew what to look for, could see both his fear and his scorn quite clearly. "What kind of a life is that to sentence someone to?" Touya saw his mother nod, and his father's eyes narrowed imperceptibly, and he could swear he'd never loved the three of them as much as he did now.

Lord Rondart smiled pleasantly at Yukito, but his voice when he spoke was pure poison. "I'm not sure I think it's appropriate for someone who has self-interest in the matter remaining unsolved to participate in this meeting."

"My lord, please," Fujitaka injected with a wry smile. "If I was to dismiss everyone speaking out of self-interest from every debate in court, I'd have to send everyone out of the room, including my wife and myself. I'd say it is reasonable for Yukito to remain here, since the matter at hand concerns him as well."

_You're one to talk about self-interest, _Touya silently seethed, glowering at the Lord. _The only reason you are pushing for this, you vile little snake, is because if my father is overthrown, it would mean that you've been betting on the wrong horse this entire time._

"Very well," Lord Rondart said with a shrug, as if he really wasn't furious about the turn of events. "In any case, I will have to agree with the Venerable Brother that it would be a most unfortunate situation for the poor woman. But I ask you to consider what is most important. The potential unhappiness of one woman, or the welfare of thousands."

Yukito's cheeks colored, and Touya felt, if possible, even more inclined to wring the man's scrawny neck. He'd used the old term used for priests on purpose, he _knew_ he had. It was a nasty reminder that until a couple of years ago, all the priest and priestesses had been sworn to absolute celibate and chastity. Nadeshiko had put an end to that oppressive old custom, but not before Yukito had managed to break his vows with Touya more than a few times. But Lord Rondart couldn't have known that, it was _impossible_. So he must've been guessing. But then again, did that really matter now? The pleased smirk that flitted over the man's face said he'd seen Yukito's reaction, and was storing away the information for later. The _bastard._

"You mean to say that the ends justify the means?" Nadeshiko was saying calmly, raising one eyebrow in an imitation of the Lord's gesture just a few minutes ago. "That's a fairly bold statement, Lord Rondart."

Rondart shrugged. "I am merely saying what needs to be said, your Majesty."

"Well, that is truly admirable in that case," Nadeshiko replied, and Touya was impressed by how truly nasty his mother could sound while still being every bit as lovely and charming as always. Slimy little fakesters like Rondart couldn't hold a candle to her.

The king hid a smile behind a cough. "Indeed," he agreed. "And we will give your words due consideration, Lord Rondart. Thank you for bringing your concerns to us."

Rondart bowed silently, and then excused himself. At least you had to give that to the little pissant. He knew a dismissal when he it was thrown in his face. Fujitaka watched him go with a scowl, and as the door slammed shut behind him he sighed deeply. "I am sorry about this, boys."

"Don't apologize, father," Touya said quietly. "He does bring up a valid point. Not about the marriage, of course," he hurriedly added, when three pairs of eyes stared in sudden horror at him. "I mean about the unrest we're causing. Something needs to be done."

Yukito nodded in agreement as the king and queen glanced uneasily at each other. "It plagues my conscience too," he said softly.

"Ah, boys," Nadeshiko said softly, sadly. "You're right, of course. But what _can_ be done?" And then, softer still, so quietly that it wasn't words so much as the shapes of words: "If only Sakura…"

There was nothing to say to that.

xxx

Kurogane leaned back on the porch and closed his eyes, soaking up the golden autumn sunlight. The air was starting to get cold, gaining that knife-sharp edge which took so many lives every winter. But it was still pleasant outside on cloudfree days, and Kurogane was determined to enjoy it while it lasted. Winters always made his left shoulder ache something powerful.

From the yard came the steady thwack of the axe cleaving wood. He was glad Syaoran had taken the task upon himself unasked, because he'd never really gotten used to doing it one-handed. But he hated having to remind the kid and himself how fucking useless he was.

At least he felt no shame letting Syaoran bring in money for them both, doing odd jobs all over the place. The money they kept sending him for his services in the war was for shit, and it wasn't _his_ fault people thought he couldn't do a decent share of work just because he only had one arm. Besides which, there had been a time when he was younger, when Syaoran had relied on him for charity. There was nothing dishonorable about a fair exchange.

The kid had grown up a fine young man, and Kurogane decided that he deserved at least some of the credit for it. He'd set the brat right before he'd managed to turn into a right bastard. Sure, he was still a cheeky little sod at times, but the man Syaoran was today would never dream of trying to kick down a cripple in an alley and steal his money. Hells, the little idiot still kept apologizing for it, as if Kurogane didn't know he'd been starved half out of his mind, and robbery had been the less humiliating alternative. But he'd seen it back then, the same thing he saw now, six years later. There was something… _fundamentally decent_ about Syaoran that had shone through the filth and the anger and the bad attitude…

_He'd never thought the world could be perfect, but now he saw it was. The small waterfall gurgled happily, telling a never-ending bedtime story to the nodding heads of white flowers and the sleepily cooing doves. The body next to his was warm and secure; it was happiness he'd never dreamed about made solid, and he reached out to stroke the cheek of the man he loved, to reassure himself that he was real-_

_-but there was no one there. His hand met grass that was warm and wet and sticky. Blood. There was blood in the grass and-_

_-and then the hand he'd reached out was gone, nothing but aching emptiness remained and he could hear the sound of swords clashing and he knew-_

_-he __**knew**__-_

He couldn't tell when he drifted asleep, lulled by the sunlight and the rhythmic fall of the axe. But when he woke up, he knew exactly what it was that had interrupted his slumber. There was no way he'd ever forget about the sound of battle. He heard footsteps approaching at a run behind him, and soon Syaoran was at his side, wild-eyed and nervous.

"What's that sound?" he demanded.

"Fighting," Kurogane said shortly. "Boy, fetch my sword, and get your own while we're at it."

Syaoran blinked, and then went a bit pale under the tan. "Why?" he demanded.

"I ain't a soldier no more, kid," Kurogane growled, getting to his feet and rolling his one intact shoulder to get the circulation going, "but there's some things you learn. And one is that running _from_ battle ain't never done anyone any good. Running _toward_ battle is what gets you through most of the time, because at least then you know what's happening, and you'll get to the bastards attacking you _before_ they set fire to your roof. Now _get me that sword_."

xxx

When they got to the square, they were met by the strangest sight. A large group of soldiers in white-and-blue livery were all standing in a circle around two slim figures dressed all in black. A few more soldiers were strewn about on the ground within the circle, some of them groaning and stirring, and a couple lying very still. It appeared as if the soldiers had moved in on the two, thinking they were going to be easy prey, and had gotten a rather brusque lesson in not judging a book by its cover. Now they were keeping a safe distance, muttering among themselves, and the lieutenant in charge was looking a bit flustered.

All around, people were clustering, watching the display as if it was some kind of street theater. Kurogane motioned for Syaoran to follow him, and then slowly started to circle the group, sticking to the walls and keeping himself as inconspicuous as he could.

"Now, see here," the lieutenant was saying, trying to sound haughty and not quite succeeding. "Our lord only wishes to speak to you two. All in all, you should be grateful he is being so lenient with outlaws like yourselves. He might not be so kind if you don't come with us quietly now."

The taller of the two figures let loose a loud whoop of laughter. "Thank you, kind sir, but I think I can do without your lord's particular brand of kindness." He tucked a few tresses of wispy blond hair behind his ear, grinning like a maniac. "Besides, I already know what your lord wants from us, and I have already told him exactly what he can do with his offer. In great detail, too, as I recall."

This was apparently not the answer the lieutenant had expected, and now a faint blush rose on his cheeks. A few of his men stifled sniggers. "He told me to tell you that…" The man nervously licked his lips. Whatever this was about, it was clearly not something he felt comfortable discussing in front of an audience of commoners. "That the offer might be more lucrative this time around. Ah. _A lot_ more lucrative."

"Oh my stars," the blond man said, covering his mouth daintily with one leather-clad hand, his expression of shock so faked that it made Kurogane snort in disgust. "Well, do you hear that, Little Cat?" He turned theatrically to his companion. "The Lord has an even more lucrative offer for us. What do you say?"

Syaoran gasped at Kurogane's side. "She's a _girl_."

"I can see she's a girl, you ninny. Now shut up."

The girl in question was short and looked fairly young, with messy brown hair and large green eyes. The man with her also had green eyes, and they both moved the same way, sinuous and flowing. Kurogane wondered if perhaps they were related, an impression that was strengthened by the girl treating her companion to an annoyed scowl of the kind Syaoran usually employed when he thought Kurogane had been treating him like a child. But then, after a moment, she turned instead to smile sweetly at the lieutenant.

"_Fuck_. Your. Lord," she enunciated cheerfully. "We're no damned hired killers, and we won't be doing his dirty work for him."

The man next to her made a disgusted little noise. "Really, Little Cat. That kind of language doesn't befit a lady at all."

"Which is why you don't use it, Big Cat," the girl replied placidly, causing her companion to chuckle, looking pleased. The lieutenant, meanwhile, had turned white, then red, then white again at the girl's words, and now he was glancing around uncomfortably. So the offer in question had really been blood money. Kurogane nodded grimly to himself, laying a hand on the hilt of his sword as he kept watching in silence.

"It seems you won't be swayed by common courtesy," the lieutenant snapped. "Very well then. Let's see how you reply to the kind of language your kind of people understand. Men!"

If he'd been hoping for a dramatic charge, it didn't happen. It appeared the men had learned their lesson from their comrades' mistakes, and they advanced carefully, watching every move the pair in black made. Then one man darted forward toward the girl. Syaoran made an involuntary movement, but Kurogane drew his sword in one swift, fluid motion, blocking the kid's path with the gleaming blade.

"Wait," he growled impatiently, nodding at the girl and the soldier. She'd jumped easily out of his way, and now she was dodging his every stab and swipe with the ease of a little girl playing hopscotch. The man was not bad at handling his blade, but he didn't even seem to inconvenience her. She was smiling widely, giggling, dancing around and clearly enjoying herself – and then she suddenly fell back into a crouch, shot forward, and before the soldier could react, she was standing on her hands with her heels planted firmly in his face. He collapsed slowly backwards. Everyone in the square breathed out an awed sigh. Syaoran's eyes were large as soup-plates, and Kurogane chuckled dryly.

The girl landed on her feet with a soft tap, smiling serenely.

"Hyuu!" The one called Big Cat made a strange sound, as if he was trying to whistle but couldn't quite manage it. He made a huge, flamboyant gesture toward their audience. "Ladies and gentlemen, Little Cat! Isn't she talented?" People actually started _applauding_, the gods help them for being idiots. Kurogane stiffened, waiting.

And then, pandemonium happened. Realizing that they would never beat the two of them if they challenged them one-on-one, the soldiers quickly gathered into formation after a barked command from their sergeant, and then they crashed in a wave of roaring mouths and metal toward the pair in black. They had regrouped too, standing back to back, but Kurogane could see that the blond man wasn't smiling anymore.

"_Now_!" he barked at Syaoran.

Neither of them might've been able to run around on their hands or bend like they didn't have bones in their bodies, like the two outlaws. But Kurogane had trained himself to fight with a one-handed sword, trained himself to perfection just so he could beat the ever-loving _shit_ out of the asshole captain that'd had the nerve to dismiss him from the army, citing the damn arm as the reason. He'd challenged him to a duel in front of everyone, a duel he couldn't refuse because how could he look his men in the eyes if they thought he'd been afraid of a _cripple_? And as the bastard lay there with Kurogane's boot against his throat, Kurogane had known for sure that he hadn't been dismissed because of the arm, and the captain had known that he knew, and maybe the men watching them had known it too. He hoped so. In that case, that man would never receive any respect from his men for the rest of his life.

That was the punishment for a soldier who sold his honor.

He'd stopped training a year later because he'd almost sliced off his other arm one night when he'd decided to train while drunk. At the time, drinking had seemed more important than training. He'd never thought he'd pick up a sword again after that.

But then, one evening, he'd decided on a whim to bring in a street brat who'd tried to rob him in an alley. And that was when things had to change, or his father and mother would've turned in their graves from shame. He couldn't drink himself into a stupor every night with a kid in the house. He couldn't spend his days in listless apathy when there was a growing boy who needed food depending on him. And when he'd realized just how eager Syaoran was to learn how to fight better, teaching him had meant he'd gotten into the habit of training regularly once more.

And while he might never be the fighter he'd once been, he and the kid together were a force to be reckoned with. Combined with the whirlwind of blades that was Little Cat, and the black blur of speed which was almost all you could see of Big Cat, the soldiers that were still standing were soon breaking the line and stumbling backwards. The sergeant was shouting for them to regroup, the lieutenant was just shouting but no one was listening, and the soldiers didn't seem too eager to even _try_, now that the enemy had received reinforcement.

A hand grabbed Kurogane's shoulder. His bad shoulder. He tried to tug himself free, but the hand was like steel.

"And now, my tall dark savior," a voice mumbled far too close to his ear, "we _run_."

"Kurogane!"

He jerked around, and saw that Syaoran already halfway up a side alley together with the girl, and he was gesturing for him to follow. Glaring sideways at the evidently crazy person at his side, he nodded curtly to show he'd understood, and the idiot finally let go of him. With an angry snort, he headed off after the kids, not checking to see if the blond bastard was following. It was probably too much to hope that he'd lose him.

xxx

They were in a tavern, although this fact had not been advertised in any way on the outside. The outside had looked like any shabby, run-down building, and Kurogane had been wary when Big Cat slipped through the door and motioned for them to follow. Even more so when he'd realized what this place was. If it didn't advertize itself, that meant it was only open to those who'd been told where to find it. Illegal, in other words.

But at least they appeared to be safe. The room they'd been shown to already had a fire going in the hearth, and the furniture was comfortable. Food had been brought there on the request of Little Cat, and if the money that paid for it technically was ill-gotten gains… well, Kurogane didn't really give a fuck. He was hungry.

"Well now," Big Cat said, acting as if there had already been a conversation going for quite some time. He was playing with his long braid – which had a velvet bow attached at the end, the fucking dandy – and watching Kurogane and Syaoran with rapt interest, his eyes twinkling with unexplained amusement. "Not that I mind being gallantly saved by so dashing and daring a duo, but I'm afraid to say that I'm quite at a loss as to _why_. After all, you must've figured out we were outlaws. So why bother with a couple of total strangers, especially if you know that they're criminals?"

Kurogane scowled at him. In truth, he didn't know why. Maybe it was simply that it had felt so _good_ to be in a battle again, a real battle; maybe he'd just jumped in because this was what he'd _longed _for, when the nights grew too long and a ghost lay next to him in bed and he had to go have a look at Syaoran sleeping to remind himself why he even bothered staying alive. If that was the case, he'd dragged a young man with his whole life in front of him into this mess just for the sake of his own boredom. That didn't make him feel too good about himself.

But there had been something else, too. He knew just too well the way noblemen had of assuming that everyone around them was a tool at their disposal. It seemed programmed into them; the way Kurogane saw it, there wasn't even any malice behind it. Just a firm conviction that they were, to put it simply, more important than other human beings. They had a _right_ to use the people around them to fulfill their own needs, because that was what common people were _for_.

So maybe that was why?

"You said you weren't killers," he said curtly, because he didn't know what else to say. "Bastard should've listened. That's all."

The girl called Little Cat looked up from where she sat cross-legged on the floor. "That was very sweet of you," she declared. "Thank you!" She smiled brightly at him, looking surprisingly girlish now that she wasn't whirling around and dealing out oblivion of the possibly terminal kind. He was about to say something noncommittal about it being nothing – except openly helping outlaws really wasn't nothing, and he didn't want to sound like an idiot. So he frowned and said nothing at all, as the girl went back to polishing one of her daggers.

She'd removed what Kurogane had thought was a ridiculously short skirt, but which on a closer look revealed itself to be two toughened leather semi-circles molded in the shape of her hips and thighs, with several slots on for her multitude of knives. These were attached like a sort of very broad belt by a complicated array of leather straps, hoops and buckles, which presumably gave her the mobility she needed for those anatomy-defying stunts.

Except for the strange leather monstrosity, she wore simple black linen pants, a high-necked shirt in the same material, and a bodice made from leather that looked very soft and pliant. She'd also fashioned herself a pair of cat ears out of some mink fur, and under her black leather shoes and on the inside of her gloves, there were pink pads sewn, making them look like paws. Hells, the silly girl even had a _tail_ sewn onto the back of her trousers.

And Syaoran didn't seem to be able to take his eyes off her. Huh. He could swear he'd never been that young.

"But where are my manners?" the blond nutcase suddenly exclaimed and clapped his hands together, breaking the awkward silence. "Gentlemen, I am Fai, often referred to as Big Cat. The charming girl here is my daughter."

"Your daughter? Really?" Kurogane scoffed and gave him a steely look. "Begging you pardon, _sir_, but unless you fathered her when you were _ten_…"

"How sweet," the idiot thrilled. "He actually thinks I'm twenty-five! What a darling." Before Kurogane could manage a suitable retort, the outlaw barreled right on. "Little Cat here is my _adopted daughter._ And before you ask, that is indeed her actual name." He winked at the girl, who giggled softly. "And may we ask the names of our rescuers?"

"Stop it with the rescue crap," Kurogane said bluntly. "We only helped you out. You did just as much as we." After glaring at Fai, something that only made him smile even wider, he reluctantly added: "I'm Kurogane." When Syaoran didn't immediately venture his own name, he rolled his eyes and nudged the boy fairly brusquely with his foot. "Your name, kid, if you think you can spare the attention for it."

Syaoran blinked, and then went a truly spectacular shade of red. "S-Syaoran," he offered in an explosive burst, looking anywhere but at Little Cat. Kurogane saw her give the young man a look of shy curiosity, and almost snorted out loud. Kids.

Fai was watching them too, and he winked at Kurogane with a mischievous grin. He didn't know what he thought of such a familiar gesture from a total stranger, so he just shrugged and grimaced dismissively in reply.

"Still, perhaps it would be a good idea to discuss the situation at hand," Fai said, crossing his arms behind his head and stretching out his long, leather-clad legs. "After all, I'm afraid to say that things don't look too good for you. You're a rather distinctive-looking pair, and there were a lot of people there who saw you help us out, not to mention the soldiers." He smiled cheerfully. "Honestly, returning home might be a bit of a problem for you."

Syaoran and Kurogane glanced at each other. 'Home' was at the moment two small rooms squeezed into a draughty attic; it wasn't exactly that big of a loss. But it was beginning to dawn on them that they'd have to leave the city too, their friends and acquaintances. Kurogane mostly kept to himself, and he didn't know many people all that well, but he knew Syaoran had gotten pretty close to some of the people he usually worked with. The young man shrugged awkwardly in response to Kurogane's questioning look, shaking his head as if to say there wasn't much to do about it _now._

It was really strange, now that he was actually _thinking_ about it. He hadn't even thought twice before charging in and helping the two outlaws. Of course, no one should be forced to become some stuck-up lord's assassin, especially not a fifteen-year-old girl. But had he _really_ thought about that at the time? Or had he simply rushed forward without a second thought because he'd somehow known that this was… right?

What a load of horseshit. He shook his head in disgust. It was probably nothing stranger than him and the boy itching for a fight.

"Well the way I see it," Fai said, studying their silent interactions with invasive interest, "you helped us out in a fairly tricky situation. You didn't need to. You did it out of the kindness of your noble hearts." He really seemed to enjoy this, the bastard. "So I'd say we owe you." He sent Little Cat a pointed sideways glance, and her whole face lit up.

"Oh, yes!" she exclaimed enthusiastically. "You could come with us! We're used to travelling around, we could help you. And if that Lord Rondart tries to come after us, you could help us out again." She smiled brilliantly at Syaoran, who once more went magenta, and the glance he sent Kurogane was downright pleading.

The gods damn the kid.

"Sure," he said curtly. "Ain't like we've got nowhere better to be."

Little Cat gave a delighted squeak, jumped to her feet and positively assaulted him with a hug. Kurogane cleared his throat, embarrassed by this unabashed show of affection, and patted her a bit awkwardly on the back. Then she spun around and gave Syaoran a hug too, something that had the both of them blushing, and finally she pounced on her travel companion, who laughed hugely and ruffled her hair, dislodging her cat ears and making her squeak indignantly.

So, they were a team. A crippled soldier, a teenage boy who still stuttered when he talked to girls, a teenage girl who dressed like a cat, and a blond madman in leather. Wow. Lord Rondart had better watch out, whoever he was.

xxx

Later that night, Kurogane woke up to the sound of hushed voices.

"…still don't see why you didn't just _tell_ me about it," Little Cat was hissing, a definitely note of petulance in her voice. "I'm not a _baby_, and I think I have the right to know what kind of offers we receive."

"I'm sorry, kitty," Fai replied soothingly. "I didn't think it mattered since we were going to turn it down in any case."

"Don't do that, Fai," Little Cat replied pleadingly. "Don't lie. If you hadn't thought it mattered, you would've told me." To this there was no answer. Little Cat sighed quietly. "I know you want to protect me. But we were _attacked_, damn it, and I didn't even know what it was about. You had to tell me _in battle_ that you'd been keeping things from me. I felt like such a _child_."

Kurogane snorted and pulled his pillow over his head. This was going to be the death of him.


	2. The boy's right eye

**Chapter Two**

**The boy's right eye**

Yuuko smiled, lifting her empty crystal goblet. "More wine, boy. You don't want me to die of thirst, do you?"

"What about my brother?" Watanuki demanded, hanging onto the pitcher of wine as his only means of negotiation and valiantly resisting the Head Magician's pout. "You said there was news about my brother. Do you know where he is?"

"Of _course_ I know where the boy is," Yuuko replied, smiling slyly.

Watanuki glared flatly at her. "But you're not going to tell me where, are you?"

"Can't. You know that," Yuuko said, with what Watanuki thought was downright inconsiderate cheerfulness. "You'd only rush off and try to find him, and this really isn't the time."

"But he's alive?" Watanuki demanded desperately. "He's well?"

"Yes on both your questions," Yuuko said. "Now may I have some wine?"

Watanuki pressed his lips together, attempting to count to ten slowly while he filled her glass. He managed to get to four before he exploded. "_You can't seriously have called me here in the middle of the night if you weren't going to tell me more than that!" _This was accompanied by a potted plant behind him exploding. Watanuki often lost control of his magic when he lost his temper – that was to say, incidents like that were frequently occurring, and had a tendency to happen more often whenever the royal attaché was in the same room.

"Patience, Watanuki," Yuuko chided, sipping her wine with an amused smirk, probably because she knew that if there was one thing her talented apprentice did not excel in, it was patience.

"_Patience? My little brother-_"

"Is in a spot of trouble right now," Yuuko finished calmly, downing the rest of the wine in one gulp and holding the glass out for more. "One of _his_ lackeys will be looking for him now."

Watanuki went even paler than usual, slopping some wine over her hand, which she carelessly licked away. "No! Does he know…?"

Yuuko scoffed. "Of _course_ he doesn't know. You really need to have more faith in me. Honestly, what kind of apprentice _are_ you?"

"One who's being held hostage," Watanuki said between gritted teeth. "In exchange for information about his little brother, if you remember?"

"A price had to be paid," Yuuko replied, shrugging. Watanuki muttered a long string of very bad words, and Yuuko raised a thin black eyebrow. "Excuse me, what was that?"

"Nothing. _Nothing_. I just said… Well, you keep saying that."

"Because it's true," Yuuko replied, smiling darkly. "At least I didn't _force_ you to pay the price, now did I?"

"Well, it wouldn't work then," Watanuki replied, bemused.

"_Wrong_," Yuuko shot back. "Unfortunately, that's wrong, Watanuki. Although, of course, there's a price to pay for that kind of action as well. A heavy price. Regrettably, there'll always be people who are prepared to pay it." She stared straight ahead for a short moment, her eyes hard, and her fingers drummed an angry staccato rhythm against the armrest of her chair. Then she shrugged and once more sucked down a full glass of wine as if it was water. "Now, did you want to hear about your brother or not? I can't sit here chatting all night."

For a moment, it looked as if Watanuki was going to explode again, but then he – amazingly – managed to pull himself together. A fire that had started in the corner of the carpet he stood on went out. "Please tell me," he requested as politely as he could, and he even filled up her glass without complaining.

"Good boy," Yuuko all but purred, smiling smugly. The fire started up again as Watanuki glared, and she put it out with an offhand wave of her naked foot. "He's met up with the rest of them now," she then informed him in her usual casual way, as if this wasn't the most important event in more than a thousand years, which could either save the whole world or plunge it into hundreds of years of holy war.

Watanuki blinked, anger momentarily forgotten. "What, all three of them?"

"Well actually," Yuuko said cheerfully, "he's been with one of them these past six years."

"He… _what?_ You knew about this? You _knew_ he wasn't alone?" A small porcelain bird on the mantelpiece came alive with an undignified squeak. Yuuko gestured at it, and it came obediently to her, landing on her finger.

"Nicely done," she commented, admiring it. "A shame you can't do that _on_ _purpose_ yet. And no, as a matter of fact I didn't. My access has been closed up until now, you should know that. All I knew was that he _had_ to be alive, because his meeting up with the others was inevitable."

"But… now you can see him? Actually _see_ him?" Watanuki said, his voice weak with relief. Yuuko leveled a stern look at him.

"Yes. But that also means that others will be free to meddle. He's no longer safe." Watanuki deflated, and the hand holding the wine pitcher shook. The bird once more turned to porcelain. Yuuko's voice softened; she wasn't completely heartless. "Then again, that means I can lend them some assistance too. Although, of course, not directly."

"What do you mean?" he wondered, the hope in his eyes heartbreakingly obvious.

Yuuko smiled and held up one hand, which immediately started to glow with magic. The white light brightened until Watanuki had to close his eyes, but just before he did, he thought he saw it surging forward, swirling and dancing around a point in midair. It all happened in complete silence, but after a few seconds there was a small thud and Yuuko said, "You can open your eyes now."

On the carpet, a small white creature was blinking its eyes sleepily. "Mmm? What is it? What's the time? Mokona was having such a nice nap…

"That's a-" Watanuki exclaimed, his eyes wide.

"Yes," Yuuko agreed. "I never told you that his familiar was the same kind as mine, did I? Although their powers are different, of course. Still, they do share a very strong bond…"

"What is it doing _here_?" Watanuki exclaimed, horrified, as if Yuuko had just presented him with a human head. His own familiar, hiding under his clothes as was its habit, tightened around his neck in dismay at the very idea of separation.

"The Circle had it confiscated when he ran away," she replied calmly. "On my orders, I might add. I was afraid that they would try to find him via mine if it was allowed to come with him. It was safer for him if it stayed here and slept. But now… now I'm afraid he just might need all the help he can get. Hmm, but how to go about it?" She held up her glass and stared at it thoughtfully. "I'll send it out to their next destination, and it can wait for them there," she decided, taking a rather small sip, for being her. It was only a quarter of the glass.

"And… and the price?" Watanuki managed, a bit numbly, trying to calm his upset familiar by stroking its ears.

"Has already been paid by the creature itself, of course. All these years asleep is enough to pay for its assistance now." She gave him her patented 'I'm so clever I sometimes shock myself'-smile.

The white familiar seemed to be fully awake now, and it was looking around with increasing panic. "Where's Yuui?" it demanded anxiously, bouncing sideways so it could look behind Yuuko's chair. "Why can't Mokona feel him?" And then, as understanding started to dawn, it asked in a very small voice: "How long did Mokona sleep?"

"You'll soon be back with your master," Yuuko assured it. "Don't worry, he'll tell you everything you need to now. _Now_," she added, her voice dropping to a low-pitched murmur, laden with magic, "_here is what I want you to remember…_"

xxx

"Yoo-hoo, Kuro-peach, it's time for you to wake up!"

Kurogane opened his eyes to find the brainless outlaw leaning over him with a wide, smug grin tugging on his lips. He wasn't wearing the large leather coat – which looked like it had been the result of the mass-slaughter of a whole herd of cows – yet. Instead he wore a fine black silk shirt which clung to his skin in a far too eye-catching way, and for a moment Kurogane forgot to be angry and simply stared. If you looked close, you could see that the shirt was patterned in different shades of black – if there was such a thing – and when he straightened up Kurogane could clearly see it riding over a nipple and-

-and _then _his brain came back to life, and so did his anger.

"_What_ did you just call me?" he growled viciously, and he knew the fury was disproportionate to a silly nickname given him by a feeble-minded criminal. For one weak moment, he'd looked at another man like he'd sworn he never would again. Didn't he know where that got you? Hadn't he learned his fucking _lesson_?

Fai's eyes widened for a split second, and he'd clearly registered that Kurogane's reaction wasn't only about the nickname, but then he just smiled even wider, if such a thing was possible. "What, doesn't Kuro-sugar like his nickname? Kuro-bonbon? Kuro-with-cream-on-top?" The last atrocity was presented with a lascivious wink, and made Kurogane blush far down on his neck. He saw Syaoran closing his eyes in horror – and was that a _prayer_ he was mouthing? But he didn't rise to the bait, because there was no better way of proving that you liked fucking men than to loudly deny it at every slight suggestion, joking or not.

"Idiot," he grunted instead, getting to his feet and shouldering past the skinny little twit. "Anyone save some breakfast from Syaoran?"

"Ku_ro_ga_ne_," the young man said plaintively as Little Cat giggled and handed his father a slice of cheese, a chunk of fragrant bread and an apple.

"You eat like a gods-damned _horse_, kid," Kurogane replied without remorse, peeling the wax off the cheese. "Don't know where it all goes, 'cause you sure ain't getting any bigger, and you've been going at it since you were fourteen."

"How old are you?" Little Cat asked the boy politely, conveniently blind to his furious blushing and the way he was trying to fry his adoptive father into silence with his glare.

"What? Uh. Uhm. Eighteen. Eh. I think."

"You don't know?" she asked, looking fascinated. As Syaoran muttered something almost indecipherable about being an orphan, she smiled widely at him. "I don't know how old I am either," she confided in an extremely audible whisper. "Fai thinks I must've been about three years old when he found me, so that'd make me fifteen, and of course we celebrate my birthday on the day he found me. That's the same birthday as the little princess that went missing, apparently. How old were you when you came to…?" She nodded at Kurogane, who was wondering if teenage girls needed to breathe at all.

"Twelve," Syaoran said, looking slightly dazed by her smile, or possibly just by the overwhelming flow of words.

"Oh. Oh, shit, I'm sorry," she said, reining herself in and looking more somber. "Were you… uhm, were you in an orphanage before then?"

Syaoran suddenly looked like a cornered animal, and as such he was probably likely to lash out at the slightest provocation, and he really seemed to like the girl… Kurogane sighed, getting to his feet and interrupting their conversation by saying, "Right. We really should get the red-painted fuck out of here before that Lord Whatever manages to find some _competent_ fighters. Kids, pack yourselves up. Don't leave any knives around, princess; someone could sit on 'em. Syaoran, if your blade still has so much as a damn speck of blood on it by lunchtime, I'll smack your ears off. Idiot, where are we going next?"

Fai was watching him with a look on him that made Kurogane somewhat uneasy. It was like he was trying to make sense of him. Well, he was welcome to try. Fuck knew that Kurogane couldn't figure his own damn self out most of the time. "Well, Lord Rondart has the support of the Puritan Church, so even though it's the closest town, going to Drottensburg would probably not be a spectacular idea. The best idea would be to get to Libertarian town. The closest would be Queen Nadeshiko's home town, St. Cattalina. It's a bit of a trip, but I'm sure that a couple of fine men like yourselves will have no problems with that."

Kurogane snorted. He'd been a soldier, after all, and the bastard could probably tell. And while Syaoran had never been on the roads, he'd been a street urchin for the gods only knew how long; he still wouldn't tell. He'd be fine. However, there was _one _more thing that interested him in that harebrained rant, except for their destination.

"You're one awfully well-informed criminal," he pointed out suspiciously. "I can count the people I know who can remember which towns are Libertarian and which ain't on the fingers of one hand. My _left_ hand."

Fai gave him a strange sideways glance, and while he was still smiling, there was some kind of _edge_ to it. "I'm a thief, Kuro-candy, but that does not imply that I live under a rock. I like to keep track on what is happening in the world around me, and especially the doings of those self-important, sanctimonious – Little Cat, cover your ears – _cunts_ in the Puritan Church."

Oh. So he wasn't a complete moron.

Little Cat had indeed covered her ears, although the use of it might be debated since it was her fake cat ears. She smiled beatifically when Fai raised his eyebrows at her. "You didn't say _which_ ears," she proclaimed virtuously. "Besides, I already knew that word."

Fai grinned. "Of course you do. I've no doubt you've known that word since you were _five_. You're just supposed to _pretend_ like you don't. It's called _piousness_."

"You've got some dangerous views there," Kurogane pointed out evenly, but with a reluctant smirk pulling at his lips.

"Oh, and I assume you're a Puritan, since you're clearly a military man. Everyone knows they control most of our armies, and so _well_ too." Fai spoke with a mocking smile and lofty tone of voice. "_Especially_ since you're a discharged cripple who nonetheless can fight better than most men, living on the _generous_ veteran's pension, I'm sure." Those green eyes seemed, just for a second, to look right through him. But Kurogane returned that look without flinching. It wasn't like Fai wasn't more than he claimed to be too.

"Puritans can kiss my hairy asshole," he said bluntly, which made Little Cat break out in a peal of giggles, and Syaoran had to sit down from laughing too hard. Fai's smile was almost… proud, as if Kurogane had somehow exceeded his expectations.

"Well put, Kuro-peach," he crooned, once more sounding embarrassingly suggestive, "but that's really far too good for the Puritans, I feel. Now, my ducklings," he continued, spinning around with his arms spread wide, oblivious to Kurogane glaring a hole in the back of his head, "you should listen to daddy. We really have to be far away from this city in the unlikely event that Lord Rondart somehow manages to develop some kind of semblance of a brain. Chop chop."

xxx

As they walked, Fai kept watching Kurogane out of the corner of his eye. Dear oh dear. The man really was unfairly handsome. But if it only had been that, he would've been able to deal so much better. It wasn't as if he wasn't used to handsome men. The gods knew he saw one every time he looked into a mirror. But oh no. Kurogane just had to be _perfect_.

So maybe the swearing wasn't exactly _endearing_, and all that glaring and growling seemed a bit excessive, but…

But the man was just so _good_. And not good as in good in bed – although he probably was that too, the utter bastard – but he really seemed like he was a through and through _nice_ person. He tried to hide it by being ornery and close-mouthed, but the way he cared for that boy spoke of the kind of devotion that the uncivilized asshole he tried to play himself off as could never achieve.

He wondered what the story behind the two of them was. Twelve was quite an age for an adopted child, and it wasn't as if huge brutes living on an army pension often took in kids to live with them. He didn't know much about orphanages, except for what little Chii had told him – and right now, he really didn't want to think about the one big regret he'd left behind. The point was that if Syaoran had come from one of those places, he would either have been a big-eyed, horrified little creature like Chii, or a right little beast. And how had Kurogane, of all people, even ended up in an orphanage in the first place?

There was definitely a story there. And the gods and their mothers help him, he was fascinated enough to stick around to find it out. As long as "fascinated" didn't turn into "infatuated", he supposed there was no real harm in it.

And then of course there was the price. The thing that meant he _had_ to stick around for now. Because as long as he wanted to be able to use his magic – and they lived dangerously enough that he still wanted it to be an option, Ashura and his "intimate knowledge" of his magical signature be damned – then he had to pay. For everything. For what was given to him, he paid back. For what he stole, he gave. Not necessarily to the person he'd stolen from, but he gave all the same. That was built into the very fundamentals of magic. The power you took from someplace else had to somehow return there, and so every spell, every incantation, every rune had to be paid back later with your own energy. And if you were the kind of person who would take and take and never give back when it came to everything else in life, eventually the transaction would lose its meaning to you, and _that_ was when you lost your magic. So you had to pay. Always.

And he wasn't quite sure what would've happened back there if Kurogane and Syaoran hadn't helped. He'd been careless, because he would never have imagined that an inbred little egotist like Kyle Rondart would actually bother with the two criminals who turned him down.

He must really want this poor Yukito dead badly.

"So, what was that whole business in the square about," Kurogane, makeshift mind-reader extraordinaire, interrupted his thoughts. "Since we're running away from that Lord too, I figure we've got a right to know."

Did he have to make it sound like a _threat_?

And why in the name of the moon goddess did Fai _like_ it?

"Lord Rondart approached me with a proposition," Fai said, feeling Little Cat convey some residual resentment by glaring at him. He ignored it, because he still didn't regret his decision. "He wanted a person dead, he said, and he knew that I and Little Cat were the best in the business. I informed him he was wrong, because we weren't in _that_ kind of business. He offered an indecent sum of money. I turned him down."

"Who did he want killed?"

Ah, Kurogane. Already predictable in his way of always cutting right to the chase. "The current High Priest. The one all the Puritans are all so…" He waved his hand in the air, trying to find the right simile.

"The one they're all pissing pebbles and salt over," Kurogane supplied helpfully.

"_Eloquent_, Kuro-honey. But yes, him."

Kurogane let out a low whistle. "That's some reputation you two've got, in that case. That's one high-up target, and I can't imagine he'd be easy to take out." He frowned. "I've heard a bit 'bout the man, but it ain't much, really. What's his name?"

My my, Fai thought, hiding his surprise as well as he could by not allowing his smile to falter. There's something you _really_ don't want to remember, if you don't even keep in touch with things like that. Now, what could that possibly be? "His name is Yukito," he said, glancing sideways to see if the name perhaps rang a bell to the surly warrior. But it did more than that. From the looks of it, it tore down the whole bell tower and danced naked through the church. Kurogane stopped dead, his shoulders suddenly stiff, his one hand clenching and unclenching.

"Kurogane?" Syaoran asked anxiously.

"Shit," the warrior said roughly. "But he's just a _kid_."

Fai raised his eyebrows. "Actually, I do believe he's turning twenty-six. I do hate to disagree, but I'd hardly say he's in his nappies, Kuro-currants. Very young to be a High Priest, mind. Chosen when he was just twenty-one, too."

Kurogane just shook his head. "He was just a kid back _then_," he muttered, and Fai wondered if he was even talking to themanymore, and not to the memory. "Sixteen years old, eating worse'n even Syaoran, glasses slipping down his nose all the ever-loving time. Always looked fucking miserable, too, as if he saw all the problems of the world just… laid out for 'im, and he didn't know where to start fixing it. Stupid boy."

"How old were you then?" Fai asked casually.

"Twenty-two," Kurogane replied, still distracted.

_So you're thirty-two? You're well preserved, you alluring bastard. Well, so am I. Pickled, really, in my case. _He held back an extremely inappropriate giggle, opting instead for watching Kurogane with concern.

"Was a pretty damn powerful Healer, though," he was saying, still lost in thoughts. "So he wanted to go to the front and help out. Just 'cause he could. Kid was an idiot, like I said. It was our job to protect him, too, so I got a pretty good look at him. Cried a lot, of course, when he saw all the shit no magic and no prayers in the world can fix. But he kept going. Kept asking 'What can I do? What can I do?' like a fucking mantra. And when he couldn't do shit, he could at least take away the pain. Sat there and got himself covered in blood and shit and vomit, and he just kept doing it."

_**You**__ were supposed to protect him? _Fai thought, genuinely shocked._ But that would mean- _

Kurogane finally snapped out of it, but there was something dark and hurt and _furious_in his eyes. "Why in the twelve realms of _hell_ does anyone want that kid dead?" he demanded, and Fai shook off the startling revelation Kurogane had just dropped on him, trying to form an answer.

"Well," Little Cat injected timidly before Fai could, "they _do_ say he's the crown prince's lover."

Once more, Kurogane froze, and this time his eyes narrowed. Then he snorted explosively, shaking his head. "Should've known," he muttered.

"Because he cried a lot?" Fai asked sweetly.

Kurogane sent him a withering glare. "_Everybody_ cries out there. Everybody fucking _should_ cry, or I'd say there was something wrong with 'em."

_So you cried,_ Fai mused._ I wonder over what. And I do note with interest that the way you said that makes it sound like you don't think there's anything wrong with men like Yukito. Men like me._ "So why do you say you should've known?"

Kurogane started walking again. "All those letters," he grunted. "'My dear friend' he used to start 'em. Ain't no man who calls his mate 'my dear friend' unless he means something else. It's too fucking contrived."

Fai had to concede that he had a point there. "Well, then, we're _clearly_ walking in the wrong direction," he pointed out.

"What are you talking about, you damn ninny? St. Cattalina is this way."

"Well, _yes_," Fai agreed. "But over _there_…" He pointed in the direction from where they'd come. Little Cat caught on immediately.

"Over _there_ is the capital! The castle! The actual _cathedral of Anna-Metrushka._ Oh, Fai, are we really? This is so exciting." Since Fai was busy smiling at Kurogane, trying to get the man to catch his drift – his _torrent, _really, since he wasn't exactly being subtle – she decided to give Syaoran a kiss on the cheek instead, possibly because she wanted to make him blush again. What a little minx she was turning out to be.

"What's this fucking nonsense, idiot?" Kurogane demanded. "Drottensburg is the first stop on that way. You were right, it's the last place we'd want to be right now. That shit-for-brains Fei Wang Reed has it in his fucking pocket, along with a lot of nasty men that'll be looking for you and your little friend." Was there a slight hardening in Kurogane's already adamantine eyes when he mentioned the leader of the Puritan faction? It was hard to tell.

"Correct, Kuro-plum," Fai agreed lightly. "But since we now know about Lord Rondart's dastardly plans, it really wouldn't be very chivalrous of us to just ignore it and be on our way. Someone should warn the High Priest." He lowered his voice so neither Little Cat or Syaoran would hear him over the former's excited prattle. "I'm sure they wouldn't deny access to a _former templar_." He watched the realization that he'd picked up on Kurogane's little secret sink in. The warrior was glaring at him as if he was trying to call down the fire of the gods upon him. Maybe he'd actually been able to do that, once upon a time. "Are we going?" he suggested.

Without a single word – without so much as _looking_ at Fai – Kurogane abruptly turned and started walking the other way. Fai saw Syaoran glance at him anxiously, and patted the young man lightly on the shoulder. "He'll come around," he assured him. "A lot of memories coming to life isn't always pleasant."

Syaoran gazed up at him with a very somber look in his eyes. "I know," he said quietly. "That's why I'm worried."

Fai smiled gently. "That does you credit, Syaoran. But no one can protect a person from their memories, not even themselves. They're just the kind of thing we have to deal with to survive. And I think your friend has it in him to cope better than he thinks."

Syaoran thought this over, and then he nodded, a small smile touching his lips. "I guess you're right. Thank you, Fai."

"You're welcome."

xxx

Although it of course was incredibly exciting, Little Cat had to admit that she'd been worried about the prospect of travelling companions at first. It had always been just her and Fai, moving from one city to the next too fast for her to really make any close friends. She knew a couple of people in the business, and the fences they went to, of course, and once in a while she'd talk to and play with kids from the cities and villages where they went.

Sometimes when they returned somewhere they'd been before, someone would call out her name, and it would be someone she'd played with before. Fai would usually give her a couple of hours to catch up, scouting out a place to stay for the night or a new target, and then he'd come back. He never said anything at times like that, just stood there waiting and smiling, and she'd explain to her acquaintance that she had to go. If they asked her when she'd be back she'd laugh and say she didn't know.

It was strange, really, but she'd never minded. She'd never felt like she really needed anyone else but Fai for very long. He was her father, and he was her mother, and he was her friend. What more could you wish for, really?

She'd noticed him watching her more closely lately, whenever she was around boys and girls her own age, no doubt looking to see if there would be a spark of interest from either part. A couple of boys had been interested in her, and one girl, but she'd smiled and let them know she wasn't available as kindly as she could. It wasn't that she couldn't see the appeal of falling in love, but her life on the road, her life with Fai, Big Cat and Little Cat… that was still dearer to her.

But now there was Syaoran. She couldn't pretend not to be interested in him. She'd wondered, for about a split second, if perhaps it was the fact that he'd appeared as her savior… and then she'd rejected the idea as – not to put too fine a point on it – fucking stupid. She was still certain she and Fai would've been able to handle themselves. They always had before.

Then she'd thought that maybe it was simply that she didn't have to choose with Syaoran, since he was coming with her. That seemed a bit more likely, but she nonetheless dismissed the thought. She didn't want to think she was so shallow that just any boy would do, as long as she didn't have to leave Fai for him. That seemed rather callous, to her mind.

So maybe it was just the way he looked at her, and the way she could make him smile at her if she was careful, and the way he would blush if she wasn't… Maybe it was the way there was something unguarded and effortless about him, as if no one had ever taught him to be anything but perfectly honest.

He was three whole years older than her, which to her mind suggested that he ought to be the self-assured one, the one leading the conversation and making _her_ blush. That's what she'd gathered from watching other youths her age, in any case. The boy was supposed to be in charge, and especially if he was older. It had all seemed like a bit of a game to her. She was quite sure that the girls sometimes only pretended to be bashful and meek.

It was all a bit… silly, really.

You couldn't live with Fai without learning how to be a masterful actor; how to fake smiles and pretend ignorance. But something told her that Syaoran would look right through her if she tried, just like she saw Kurogane looking right through Fai without any apparent effort. Besides which, she didn't see the point of flirting with someone if you didn't do it as yourself; she wondered why her dad kept doing it. Especially since he wasn't very good at it. For some reason, he just couldn't seem to get it right with Kurogane. She could see him slipping up all the time, revealing a flash of something real, and she could see that the gruff warrior noticed as well.

Besides, there was those nicknames… he'd never done _that_ before.

It was starting to dawn on Little Cat that she and Syaoran might not be the only ones falling for each other in their little group. She wondered if the two grownups had noticed, but decided that probably wasn't the case. They certainly acted oblivious enough. Well, sooner or later they _would_ notice, and hopefully when they were so far gone that it would be quite impossible for them to do anything about it.

Until then, she decided, she would do everything she could to help them along. Her father was a lonely man; he smiled to hide it, but she'd learned to see through him. It was a loneliness that went so deep and so far back that she had no chance of understanding it, of reaching him inside it. But something told her that maybe Kurogane could.

Maybe she could even get Syaoran in on her match-making plans as well? It might just be possible, if she approached it in the right way.

If Fai had been the kind of mage that Yuuko and Watanuki was, with the power to see what was hidden, he would have noticed something happening with Little Cat right then. As it was, he cheerfully continued teasing Kurogane, and he didn't so much as look up as a pair of huge, luminous wings slowly unfolded on her back, fluttering gently in the faint breeze. He didn't even notice when, after beating a couple of times, one of the wings softly folded itself around him, while the other wrapped around Kurogane. They stayed like this for a while, and once they finally faded away, they left something behind: A faint outline in the air, tying him and the warrior together with a force far stronger than the hardest iron, the most well-honed will.

What Fai _did_ notice – what they all noticed – was how Syaoran suddenly cried out, clutching at his right eye, and passed out.

xxx

"It happens sometimes," Kurogane muttered, grabbing the soaked cloth from Little Cat's unresisting hand and gently placing it on the boy's forehead. "He'll be burning hot for a few hours, babbling all sorts of nonsense, and then he'll be alright again, if a bit turned 'round in the head for a while." He sighed softly, leaning back on his haunches and glancing up at Fai. "If you want to continue on without us, I ain't gonna blame you. We'll stay here until he gets better. We'll be fine."

Fai looked surprised at first, but then gave him a long, appraising look before he shook his head firmly. Kurogane heard Little Cat breathing a sigh of relief. Silly girl. But he couldn't say he wasn't relieved himself.

"So tell me, do you know _why_ this happens?" Fai said, crouching down next to him and gazing down at Syaoran with what appeared to be genuine concern.

Kurogane shook his head, trying to force himself not to be so very aware of how close Fai was. It was just stress and worry pushing him to noticing, making him stupid. "No. Couldn't afford a doctor to look at 'im. But it's got something to do with that eye of his. Sometimes he can't see out of it at all, he says. Sometimes it sees things all strange. And sometimes he says it's like it's seeing a completely different place."

Fai's face had gone all blank, and Kurogane already knew what that meant. He watched as the criminal once more slipped on a carefully-constructed smile, and knew that there was something beneath that he wasn't supposed to see. "Not that I'm an expert, of course," Fai said, his voice as smooth and perfect as the smile, "but that sounds to me more like a spell than an illness, Kuro-sugar. Or perhaps 'curse' is a more appropriate word."

"Really." Kurogane kept his voice flat, and when Fai glanced curiously in his direction, he replied with stony indifference. _Two can play this game, you bastard._

Fai apparently opted for ignoring this. "May I…?" the blond asked delicately, reaching out a slim hand toward Syaoran's face. As Kurogane nodded shortly, Fai placed two almost translucent fingers against Syaoran's right eye, closing his own as if in concentration.

"Kurogane," Syaoran whispered, and a tremble went through him, but his eyes didn't open.

"I'm here kid," Kurogane replied, sending Fai a suspicious sideways glance.

"Talk to him," the outlaw urged quietly.

Kurogane glared in reply, but then cleared his throat, trying to speak softly. "How are you feeling, boy?"

"It's her again," Syaoran mumbled, tossing restlessly, but Fai reached out and gently held him still, his fingers still resting on his right eyelid. "She's smiling at me. She's always smiling. But why is she so sad?" And then his voice changed, almost as if there was a quiet echo to it, but an echo which spoke in another language entirely. "_I'm so sorry to have done this, my sweet boy, but I needed a vessel. Don't worry, I will let you go when she's dead. But until then, I will have to protect you from all outer influences._ _Don't be afraid. Never be afraid. You have something you must do._"

Fai suddenly exclaimed in pain, snatching away his hand, and his eyes flew open. For a split second, maybe less, Kurogane saw them shining an unearthly blue. Then the outlaw once more pressed them shut, and when he opened them again they were once more green.

"What did you do to him?" Kurogane growled, as Syaoran once more shuddered violently, his lips moving without a word escaping. Instead there was a thin, pitiful wail which was quickly cut short. "He ain't never done that thing with his voice before, so you must've done _something_."

"I didn't," Fai replied, his face as white as paper. "Believe me, I was just trying to see where the influence came from."

Kurogane reached out and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, jerking him forward until they were nose-to-nose. "Then explain what the blue-beaten _fuck_ just happened before I pound out every tooth in your mouth so you'll never dare to smile again, you miserable…"

And then he was stumbling backwards, gasping painfully for breath after having been hit by a small but expertly aimed foot in the throat. Before he had time to think, his sleeve was nailed to the floor by a dagger, and Little Cat was glancing down at him anxiously. "I understand you're worried, Kurogane," she said, her voice a bit shaky, "but don't threaten Fai again, or I _will _hit you harder."

Damn. He'd forgotten about the girl.

Fai blinked, and it was pretty clear he'd forgotten about her too. Then he jumped quickly to his feet, nudging Little Cat gently out of the way. "Don't be foolish, kitty. I'm afraid Kuro-sprinkles could beat you if he wanted to." He looked down at the warrior, who'd pulled his arm free without much trouble, and sighed. "I admit I made a mistake. I was careless. But I swear I have no idea what happened other than that _something_ has control of Syaoran's right eye." He took a deep breath, attempting a smile which was bleak at best; desperate at worst. "And the only magic I did," he said quietly, as if he hated the very word, "was to defend myself when he tried to kill me."


	3. The Wings of Fate

**Chapter three**

**The Wings of Fate**

The shock of Fai's magic echoed through the world, and at the Circle, a lot of the more sensitive mages suddenly had to go and have a quiet lie-down. In the garden outside, a girl who hadn't smiled for more than twelve years frightened her caretakers by suddenly laughing out loud. A small white creature, waiting patiently for its master outside Drottensburg, suddenly woke up as its eyes flew forcefully open.

In the private reception room of the Head Magician, Watanuki fainted, and was only saved the ignominy of taking an involuntary – and possibly fatal – bath in an ornamental fountain by the swift reaction of the royal attaché. Nobody knew exactly how he managed to hasten forward through the dense crowd surrounding Yuuko, but he did it just in time to catch the falling boy in his arms. Once he came to, Yuuko's apprentice was less than grateful at having been saved by – so he claimed – the last person in the world he _ever_ wanted any kind of physical contact with. His anger didn't appear to concern Lord Doumeki very much, and once Yuuko had assured him that Watanuki was going to be fine, he left without another word.

"What happened?" Watanuki demanded, still glaring at the door through which the royal attaché had vanished. His familiar was tying itself in agitated knots around his arm, and he absent-mindedly patted the pipefox on the head.

"Yuui," she replied simply, pouring herself a huge glass of something that looked like water, but Watanuki wasn't fooled.

"You expect me to believe _that_ was done by just one person? And what was that thing that happened just half an hour before? It almost blew my eardrums in!"

"It _was_ done by just one person," Yuuko confirmed, downing the entire glass with a faint grimace. "Yuui is exceptionally powerful – _unnaturally_ powerful. He has more power in him than one person is made to have. The rate at which he generates magic is extraordinary, and he's been keeping it all inside him for several years now. When he used his magic to protect himself now, the excess magic he's been trying to keep inside him was let loose, and that's what made you faint." She massaged her forehead with a martyred expression. "My head is going to ache for _weeks_."

"Nothing new, then," Watanuki said nastily, slowly inching himself into a sitting position. His familiar made an indignant sound and tried to pull him back toward the pillow, but he paid it no heed. "And what was that thing before, then? That… that _noise_?"

"It wasn't a noise," Yuuko replied, pouring herself another glass of whatever was her poison at the moment, possibly just to tease her apprentice. "That was the power of Yuui's little helper. I'd imagine there are very few people who noticed _that_. Her power goes too far beyond ordinary magic, and mages as a rule are very inept at perceiving what they cannot comprehend. I should be very much surprised if even Yuui noticed."

"Mokona noticed!" Yuuko's familiar exclaimed, bounding through the door and into his mistress' lap. "Mokona felt the wings of fate!"

"Of _course_ you did, my little darling! How about some schnapps?"

"The _huh _of the _what_?" Watanuki asked irritably, as Yuuko poured alcohol into the mouth of her familiar while making entirely inappropriate cooing noises.

"Wings of fate, my dear, wings of fate," Yuuko said, as if she was talking about nothing more exciting or mysterious than the weather. "The girl's ability to bend the world around her and help it take the path she prefers. It's not terribly exact, of course, but it _is_ terribly dangerous. No wonder the curse your brother carries activated."

Watanuki immediately shot to his feet, but then staggered and had to sit down again. "_What?_" he demanded weakly. "My brother… you said… the curse…" His eyes widened, and a moment later he was throwing up in one of Yuuko's large ornamental urns, while his familiar twittered anxiously and twined itself around his neck. The Head Magician watched him with one eyebrow raised, but without showing any other sign of displeasure.

"You really shouldn't jump around after fainting like that," she said, sounding amused more than anything. "If you can't take care of yourself, maybe I should get get Doumeki to follow you around and make sure you do?"

"Please," Watanuki pleaded feebly, for once not even flinching at the sound of Doumeki's name. "Please, just tell me…"

"There isn't much I can tell," Yuuko interrupted, stroking Mokona's ears thoughtfully. "The curse activated. As far as I can tell, it's been doing it on and off these past fourteen years. He's not in any danger from it… yet. All we can do," she said sharply, as Watanuki once more opened his mouth, "is keep watch and see what happens next. Oh, and one more thing."

"What?" Watanuki mumbled, finally relenting to his familiar's insistent tugging and getting back in bed.

"Well, Yuui _did_ use his magic. Surely you know what that means."

Her apprentice stared blankly at her for a long time, then he closed his eyes with a quiet groan. "Ashura."

"Exactly," Yuuko agreed. "Another player has entered the stage. And this one has been known to not play by the rules."

* * *

><p>"So… you're a mage," Kurogane said, watching Fai with a steely eye from the other side of their camp fire.<p>

"Was," Fai replied pointedly, avoiding the warrior's gaze and staring out over the bleak moonlit landscape. Little Cat was huddling with a blanket around her shoulders by his feet, and he absentmindedly ruffled her hair. She made a very small sound and leaned her head against the side of his knee.

Kurogane snorted derisively, and Fai could feel his eyes on him, burning through his skin, eating through his defenses. "You don't stop being a mage just 'cause you ain't using magic, any more'n you stop being a warrior just 'cause you ain't in any war anymore." He spat expertly in the fire, and the flames hissed angrily in reply. "Were you planning on telling?"

"He never told _me_," Little Cat said quietly, and Fai saw shock registering on Kurogane's face before the customary scowl returned.

"I'm so sorry, kitty," he replied, touching his daughter's cheek with a gentle hand. "But… you don't seem very surprised?"

She shrugged, smiling her soft little smile. "I always knew there was something big you were hiding," she said with a small shrug. "And I always had a feeling there were… things you could do. Like you were… _more_, somehow." She grimaced a bit helplessly. "I don't know if I can explain it better than that."

Fai shook his head in wonder. "If I hadn't tested you for magic several times, I could _swear_ there was some kind of power in you. But if it's there, I can't find it."

Little Cat giggled, adding a log to the fire. "I'm just perceptive. You're not _nearly_ as hard to read as you think, father."

"_Cheeky_," Fai mumbled, and then looked up at Kurogane, who was still glaring at him. "Yes, Kuro-cookie?"

Kurogane's mouth tightened into a hard line, and then he looked away. "Tell me more. About… about what's wrong with Syaoran, I mean. Ain't never met anyone who could tell me anything. Some said he had the falling sickness, but I've seen what it looks like, and I reckon that's a load of horseshit. They don't get fevers from it."

Fai's heart softened at the frustration in the warrior's voice. He could only imagine what that was like, being afraid for your child's health, but helpless to do anything. Was that how his own parents had felt, as Fai had wasted slowly away to nothing? As Fai's eyes turned inexorably yellow, the color of sickness, while his own shone bluer with every passing day? Was that what had driven them mad in the end?

He pushed the thought away with all the force he could muster, but from the way Kurogane was watching him now – intent and steady, making no secret about that he was trying to get through – something of it had registered on his face.

"I can't say much," he replied, stirring the fire with a stick in a transparent attempt to avoid Kurogane's gaze again. "What I can say is that it's definitely not any kind of illness. At some point in his life, someone put a spell over his right eye. They can control it at will, see what he sees, and also make him see whatever they want him to see." He shivered at the memory of that strange power, lodged like a parasite within the boy. "But it's more than that."

"How?" Kurogane demanded, and something almost like fear grated in his voice.

"It wasn't that… power, whatever it was, that attacked me. No one, not even the most powerful mages, can attack someone with that much power on a distance." He fell quiet, didn't know how to go on, but Kurogane understood.

"Syaoran did that?" His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Fuck you, I don't believe it. He don't even know how to do magic."

"True, Kuro-pie. He's never been trained," Fai agreed, smiling a bit wryly. "But he has the potential for it. He's… very powerful. And whatever it is that's controlling him, it has the ability to allow him to harness that power. It was as if… how do I describe it? For a moment, the thing inside him took away everything that was… well, Syaoran, and left only one single purpose behind. His whole existence was narrowed down to that single purpose, and he would do everything that was in his power to accomplish it. And since he perceived me as a threat, he tried to destroy me." Syaoran had done more than that, in fact, but Fai didn't feel like discussing that right now. Because the way the boy had tried to kill him had involved trying to take Fai's magic for his own, and that came just a bit too close to his own past for comfort. And he wasn't sure how Kurogane would react to knowing that the boy had, to a certain part, been successful, and a portion of the magical discharge when he defended himself had gone directly into Syaoran, strengthening the boy's magic.

He'd made sure that Syaoran would stay unconscious a little while longer, because he was pretty sure Kurogane would be suspicious if the boy opened his eyes and they were _blue_. The sleeping spell wasn't harmful in any way – in fact, it counted as healing magic – nor was it very strong, and this was probably the reason the curse didn't react to it. He'd sleep until the blue faded from his eyes, but Fai's power would still be there, inside him.

Kurogane had been staring into the fire, an inscrutable expression on his face. Now he looked up, spearing Fai with eyes that matched the glow of the embers for intensity. "One more question, mage."

Fai grimaced slightly at the new epithet, but didn't mention it. "Yes?"

"That thing that was speaking with his voice… you've any idea why it was speaking in the Nihon tongue?"

Fai blinked. "What?"

"That… kind of echo thing behind his voice. It was speaking in the Nihon language."

"Oh." Fai pursed his lips, considering. "Well, that's interesting. I never studied the language myself, of course, but now that you mention it…" He remembered hearing snatches of the strangely rhythmical language when Ashura was called to diplomatic meetings, when he was young and prone to listening outside doors. Not that he'd ever kicked that habit completely.

"I suppose that it must mean that the person controlling Syaoran is from Nihon. But to what purpose? 'I needed a vessel', they said… For what?" Fai leaned his chin in his hand, trying to make sense of it all, while Kurogane watched him intently – something that did nothing for his ability to think clear, curse the man. After a moment he sighed in frustration, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Kuro-crumbles. I'll need more time to think." Another thought suddenly hit him, and he tilted his head, smiling at the warrior. "How did you know what language it was, by the way? Oh, but silly me," he then interrupted before Kurogane even got a chance to answer, "Kuro-peach has been in the war, after all…"

Kurogane raised his eyebrows, looking like he was seriously questioning Fai's intelligence. "You think you learn the language of the people you're fighting on the battlefield? 'Cause I can tell you, you sure as hellfires don't. If you don't count the words for 'Fuck your mother' and the general way of letting people know you're in agony, which is pretty much the same no matter what language you're speaking."

"It was merely a guess, Kuro-tart, no reason to be like that," Fai chided, pouting his lips expressively at the other man and causing him to grimace in disgust. Or maybe that was his reaction to the nickname. But he should be used to _that_ by now, honestly. "So how _did_ you learn to recognize it, then?"

"My mother," the warrior replied shortly after a long pause, during which he once more seemed to attempt to pick Fai apart with his stare. "She was from Nihon."

"A prisoner of war?" Fai inquired, curious. It was hard to imagine what other reason there could be for a woman to cross into what had been enemy territory for two hundred years, give or take a few truces which never lasted long. Of course, the two countries weren't actively making war on each other all the time, but the enmity toward Nihon ran deep within Clow.

"A trophy." Kurogane's face twisted in an ugly snarl. "My father saved her from his own men. He was a captain, but when he saw what the men he'd trusted were capable of, he resigned himself from the army."

Little Cat gasped, clapping her hands over her mouth, and both men stiffened in shock. Once again, they'd forgotten about her. Fai glanced guiltily down at his daughter. He'd assumed she'd fallen asleep.

"That's horrible," she said softly.

"Sorry, princess," the warrior said gruffly with an apologetic grimace. "When you're actually quiet, it's real hard to remember you're there."

Little Cat looked at first like she couldn't decide whether to pout or giggle, and so she opted for something in between, and smiled. "It's fine," she said. "Besides, it did end happily, didn't it? Your father saved her."

And to his surprise, Fai saw Kurogane's face soften, just for a moment, into a small smile that was warmer than anything he'd seen from the harsh warrior so far. It was mesmerizing. "Yeah," he agreed, and there wasn't even the customary undercurrent of anger in his voice. "Father thought he'd smuggle her back into her own country, but mother wasn't having any of that. She was staying with him, and he'd just better learn to be happy with that." He chuckled quietly. "He didn't mind very much."

"They must've loved each other very much," Little Cat said with a warm smile. "And you, of course. I'm sure they were wonderful parents."

Kurogane grinned in reply. Fai, already trying so hard to stop his heart from melting, found that it was made just a little bit more difficult as the warrior leaned forward over the fire, scuffing Little Cat gently over the head in an affectionate gesture. She squeaked delightedly, swatting at his hand. "Silly girl. But yeah. The best parents are the ones that care for you, and that's all that there is to it. Even if they ain't married, or from the same religion… even if your parent happens to be an insane magician working as a thief, it don't matter. As long as they take good care of you."

"And he takes _damn_ good care of me," Little Cat said firmly, reattaching her cat ears while she grinned up at the warrior, who just shook his head and muttered something about believing in miracles.

Fai, stunned and confused and a little bit frightened, was nonetheless not so befuddled that he didn't notice how the warrior had changed the subject. And he wondered, as he watched his daughter bicker playfully with alarmingly engaging warrior, how the story of his wonderful parents had ended. A woman from Nihon living with a man from Clow? It was like an epic, old-time love story. And if Fai remembered his classic literature right, those had a tendency of ending in tragedy.

* * *

><p>Kurogane was just getting the fire started in the morning when Fai returned. He'd been gone when the warrior woke up, and Little Cat claimed she didn't know where he was. Kurogane had a creeping suspicion the girl had learned not to ask a lot of questions, because the mage sure wasn't big on answers.<p>

However, it appeared as if Fai's disappearance had been caused by nothing more sinister than a bath. His hair hung in lank golden curtains around his face, still dripping, and damn him, he was holding his shirt in his hand. His bare upper body gleamed in the muted light, and small rivulets of water were tracing paths of fire over the pale skin. He seemed unaware of the cold that turned his breath to puffs of mist and caused the fine hairs on his arms to stand up, smiling faintly as he rubbed at his hair with a damp linen cloth.

He made a small '_oof_'-sound when Kurogane hit him squarely in the chest with a rolled-up woolen blanket, looking up with a slightly bewildered look on his face. "Now, what was that good for, Kuro-currants?"

"You'll catch your death, walking around like that," the warrior grunted, turning his back on the mage under the pretense of unpacking some breakfast. "At least put it on until you're dry enough to wear clothes."

He refrained from adding that just because Fai had an absolutely perfect body he had no fucking reason to shamelessly flaunt it like that, because the man clearly had enough of an ego without Kurogane adding to it. But it bothered him more than he wanted to admit, the way it was rapidly becoming impossible to avoid looking at Fai; the way everything about him drew him in, making him want to know more; the way he couldn't forget that moment when Fai's eyes shone bluer than the sea, his skin so white that it looked like it glowed, so utterly _alive_ in that brief moment of alarm...

Damn him. Damn the both of them. Damn Fai for reminding him of things he'd told himself that he didn't miss. And damn himself for allowing that blond ninny into his head, where he was already wreaking havoc of years of discipline and self-imposed exile.

And damn Fai _again_ for being everything _he_ hadn't been, everything Kurogane had loved _him_ for not being. Because Fai was obnoxious and talked a lot and smiled even when he didn't mean it and was frightened of something all the time. He was brittle and impulsive and flighty and fickle. He was a complete stranger in a way _he_ never had been and still...

And still he fascinated Kurogane in the exact same way.

It wasn't so strange, really, he told himself firmly. He'd made sure to keep his distance from all possible sources of temptation, and now suddenly fate had decided to more or less shove a beautiful man in his lap. It was just simple attraction fucking with his brain. And he would be strong enough to resist it, because what kind of sad shit would it make him if he couldn't?

He turned around to glare at the mage, only to find that he'd wrapped the heavy blanket around his slender frame and was smiling at him. "Thank you, Kuro-plum," he said, his voice as soft as always. "It really was a bit chilly."

Kurogane rolled his eyes, fighting back a sudden and horrifying impulse to smile and turning it into a grimace instead. "Yeah, well, if you're dumb enough to go have a bath at this time of year..." he muttered.

Fai wrinkled his nose. "Please do tell me you don't stop bathing during the winters, Kuro-toffee," he said, wringing out his dripping hair. "If you really do, I'll remember to walk upwind from you from now on."

"Of course I don't, you idiot. But I bathe _indoors_ like all normal people." He scowled half-heartedly as Fai sat down in front of the fire and started to quickly but rather sloppily braid his hair. "You're doing that all wrong," he added.

"Hmm?" Fai looked up, stopping what he was doing to look at Kurogane in surprise.

"If you braid it like that, it'll come right out again," Kurogane replied, giving Fai's braid a scornful look. "No wonder you look like a kitchen maid just out of the hay loft."

"Ah, no, that would be my hair. It's a bit tricky, you see." Fai twined a golden tress around his finger, smiling.

"A man don't blame his hair for his own failure," Kurogane said flatly. Fai stared at him, as if trying to decide if he was serious or not, and then threw back his head and laughed.

"My, but you do live after an interesting philosophy, Kuro-sugar," he said, eyes dancing with amusement. "But very well then." He grabbed his half-done braid and held it out theatrically to Kurogane. "Teach me everything, oh master."

Kurogane stiffened, because he really hadn't counted on Fai doing that. And now he was trapped, because there was no way of backing out of this without losing face utterly. With an exasperated grunt he sat down, grabbing Fai's hair and quickly undoing the braid. Then he yanked rather forcefully at it, causing Fai to yelp loudly. "Turn around so I can do it properly, you idiot."

"Ow, Kuro-creamy! Don't pull my hair out, please!" But he _did_ turn around obediently, even leaning his head back a bit to give Kurogane a better angle. "So, how did you learn how to braid properly then, Kuro-honey?" he asked lightly after a few seconds. The warrior stopped what he was doing for a moment, staring down at the fair hair coiling around his fingers, remembering. He remembered his own hands, a boy's hands, untried and soft, braiding dark brown hair. And later a young man's hands, hardened by battle, but there were still two of them, and now the hair between his fingers was black, and as soft and beautiful as moonlit silk...

"My father," he said curtly, because Fai only needed to hear half the truth. "My mother braided his hair so it wouldn't get in his way when he worked. She taught me."

"Is that customary in Nihon?" Fai asked, turning his head to look at him. Kurogane gave his hair another admonishing tug, and he turned back with a small, affronted noise. Truth to be told, it was more difficult than he had figured, doing this with only one hand. But he'd be damned if he let the mage know that.

"Yeah. She kept her own hair braided the same way she always had too. Pissed off the other people in the village to no end, but my dad was the best blacksmith they'd ever had there, so there wasn't much they could do 'bout it."

"A captain who became a blacksmith?" Fai mused, sounding surprised.

"He was a blacksmith's apprentice before he joined the army," Kurogane replied proudly, because it was damn rare that a commoner got any higher than sergeant back in those days. "Wasn't very popular with the army after he left, though, since it was still wartime." He grimaced, not fond of saying anything that cast a shadow on his father's memory, but it was the truth. "I s'pose, technically, he didn't resign himself as much as he deserted. Except deserters are generally scum or cowards, and my father was neither. He had a reason."

"A very good reason," Fai agreed, turning once more with a dazzling smile and causing Kurogane to fumble with the leather twine he used to fasten the braid. Tying knots one-handed was always a bit of a problem, but at least with this he'd gotten a lot of practice.

"Stop moving about, you idiot," he muttered, pulling at the leather a bit to make sure it was secure and then letting go. "There. Now don't mess it up."

"Excuse me, Kuro-peach, but I thought you said it _wouldn't _mess up if you got to braid it properly," Fai said with a wink, starting to tie on that ridiculous velvet ribbon on the end of the braid.

"Well, knowing you-" Kurogane began, but was interrupted.

"Uhm," Little Cat said, looking up from where she'd been keeping watch over Syaoran, "sorry to interrupt you but... I think he's waking up."

* * *

><p>When Syaoran woke up, Kurogane was kneeling right next to him. Little Cat and Fai were hovering behind him, both looking worried, but not nearly as worried as his stepfather, who was scowling down at him like he usually did whenever Syaoran managed to scare him senseless. He sat up gingerly, because after one of his episodes his head always pounded as if it was splitting open. Not this time, though. Strangely enough, he felt <em>good<em>, as if he'd had a long night's sleep and nothing more.

"How long was I out?" he mumbled, embarrassed that a couple of relative strangers had seen him rave deliriously for hours, since Kurogane had told him this was what usually happened whenever he had one of his fits. He could never remember what he'd said, but from the brief descriptions he'd had from his stepfather, it just sounded like crazy talk. He didn't want to look at Little Cat, because he didn't want to see her pitying him.

"All night," Kurogane told him gruffly. "It's morning now."

"All night?" Syaoran repeated weakly, glancing around him and finding that Kurogane was right. A red glow was spreading over the sky in the east, heralding the ascent of the sun, and that meant they should really be on their way already. At this time of year, you had to make do with the brief light you were given. "I... I'm sorry, I... _Why_? I've never been out that long before."

Kurogane shrugged. "Guess you fell asleep. The fever went down pretty quick this time." For some reason, he glanced over his shoulder at their travelling companions as he said this, but Syaoran wasn't really interested in finding out why. He was too angry.

"Then why didn't you _wake_ me?" he demanded, glaring accusingly at his stepfather.

"Couldn't," the warrior replied flatly. "Figured you needed the sleep anyways. Relax, kid. You're awake _now_, ain't you?"

Syaoran didn't reply to this at all, but settled for glowering sullenly at the older man. Kurogane _knew_ they were in danger the longer they stayed in one place, and that this was not the time to treat him like a sickly child. And Syaoran didn't buy that they'd been unable to wake him for a second. If Kurogane had _wanted_ him to wake up, he would've dumped a mug of water in his face and thought no more of it.

"You _did_ need that sleep," Fai suddenly intervened, smiling down at him. "What's the point of getting an early start only to have you collapse later while walking?" Without waiting for an answer, he crouched down next to Kurogane, watching Syaoran far too intently for comfort. "I hate to pry, but I really should ask you... do you remember anything at all from after you collapsed?"

Syaoran stared at him, taken aback, and then shrugged and looked away. "Nothing," he replied tonelessly. "I never do." Except for that _feeling_. The feeling of being two people at once, except one half of him wasn't... wasn't _human_. One half was just cold, horrible purpose, all compassion and kindness stripped away for the sake of the thing he was intended for, the unspeakable deed. But he couldn't speak of that.

For a moment, Fai's smile melted away, and he was looking at Syaoran as if he knew he was lying. It was terrifying, and he was relieved when Kurogane suddenly elbowed the outlaw in the ribs, forcing him to look away. "Tell him," he growled. "He has a right to know."

Fai sighed, once more smiling harmlessly. "I was going to. No need to be like that, Kuro-bun." He tilted his head, rocking back a bit on his heels. "Syaoran, I'm afraid I have to tell you that you appear to be under a curse."

The world around him went black. All there was, all he could ever imagine that there would be, was those far too bright green eyes looking at him, looking _right through _him, seeing what he was, giving away the truth about him. He heard Kurogane say, "Blondie here's a magician," but the words weren't important. He knew now why they hadn't bothered waking him, why they didn't mind that they were ready to leave and he wasn't.

"Just go," he said dully, starting to lie down again. "You don't have to... there's nothing you need to say. I get it. Just leave, please. I'll be fine." Silence followed his words, and as he glanced up he found them all staring down at him, shock written plainly on their faces. Hadn't they expected him to understand? The thought sparked the necessary indignation that was all it took to ignite all his pent up shame, all his frustration, all his bitter disappointment. Suddenly he was _burning_ with anger. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair of them to make him _wait_ for the rejection when he already knew it was coming, and how could they even for a second imagine that he didn't?

"Just _leave_ already," he hissed, mouth twisting into a snarl, his words bending and coiling with the old street dialect he'd grown up with, like a last, helpless line of defence. "I ain't _stupid_. I was cursed by a Nihon witch, and there ain't no how you're gonna drag someone like _that_ with you. So stop acting so fucking noble, like you ain't gonna leave me, and _get lost_."

In the silence that followed, Kurogane turned to Fai, his voice quite calm when he said, "What's he mean by 'witch'?"

Fai shrugged. "That's what superstitious people and puritans call their priestesses, as far as I understand it."

"I see." Then Kurogane turned back, reached out, and gave Syaoran a swift, hard smack right over the face.

The young man blinked, momentarily stunned. "I... what? What was _that_ for?"

"That was for badmouthing my mother, you little pisser," his stepfather said calmly.

"Your... your _mother_?" Syaoran asked weakly, the momentum of his rage now completely lost.

"Yeah, my mother. She was a Nihon priestess, and she sure as all fuck wasn't no witch. Now, I'd like you to pull your head out of your own arse for a second and talk some damn sense. Why the hell are you acting like we're buggering off and leaving you?"

Syaoran just stared at Kurogane, who levelled a steady, 'I am waiting' sort of look at him in return. After a moment, he found his voice again. "You... you ain't leaving? But... but he just said...?" He looked wildly at Fai, who raised his eyebrows in return.

"Who, me?" He pointed at his own innocently smiling face, as if he wanted to be absolutely sure that Syaoran meant him. "I just said you appear to be under a curse. I never said we were going anywhere, as far as I'm aware. Personally, I've been subject to a lot of curses in my life, so I hardly think it would be fair of me to judge someone else because of it."

"But..." Syaoran protested. "My... my _parents_..."

Kurogane's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What about your parents, kid?"

"Well, they..." he floundered. "When they found out they... I mean they sent me away. I... I just figured..."

* * *

><p><em>He barely remembered it happening. He remembered that she was beautiful, the witch, and that she somehow stood apart from the rest of the crowd around he. He'd wondered where she'd come from. He remembered her reaching out her hand toward him, her palm flat and white, not coarse and brown like his own hands, like his mother's hands. He didn't remember her saying anything, or shouting anything. He just remembered pain after that.<em>

* * *

><p><em>He remembered his parents taking him to a priest, to find out what was wrong with him. He was a kindly old man, and he started crying when he watched the shapes Syaoran's blood made in the bowl of water. He looked up, and he looked so <em>old_, as if hundreds of years had passed in an instant. "This child is cursed," he said. "He's cursed to one day kill the one he loves the most in this world."_

_He remembered his parents asking if there was anything they could do. The priest replied that only a Nihon witch could undo what had been done._

* * *

><p><em>He remembered his father waking him up early in the morning, his face all strange, like a mask. There was nothing there; even his eyes were empty. He led Syaoran out into the chilly grey dawn, and mist clung to his skin and made drops of water in his hair. He shuddered, but wasn't given a coat.<em>

_He reached out to his mother when his father lifted him onto the back of their cart, but she flinched away from his touch, her face contorting with fear. He remembered looking down at his own hands then, and finding that he was afraid of them too. That was when he started crying, but there was no comfort to be had._

_The last thing he remembered about his home was how suddenly his brother was running out the door, screaming his name, his eyes like dark holes in his face. His mother caught him around the waist and held him, and no matter how much he kicked and punched, she refused to let go. As the cart started rolling away, Syaoran considered jumping off and running away, but what would be the point if he couldn't go home?_

"_I'll find you!" his brother shouted, his voice and spirit broken as he hung limply in their mother's arms. "I'll find you!"_

"_Promise?" he called out, trying to dry away his tears._

"_I promise!" his brother replied, and then turned his face away and wept._

* * *

><p>He couldn't tell them about all of this. Not about the nature of the curse, because even now he wasn't sure they wouldn't leave him. Not about his mother's disgust and fear, because he wasn't going to cry. And not about the promise his brother had made to him, because he knew he was an idiot for still hoping he'd keep it.<p>

But the rest all came out in a jumbled, pathetic rush of words, as he stared at his hands and tried to get his eyes to stop burning. He told them about how they hadn't wanted to take him to an orphanage, because what if he was given to some other parents? But they didn't dare to simply kill him, or leave him in the forest for the wolves; maybe they just couldn't bear the thought, or maybe they were just afraid of divine retribution. Whichever the reason, he was taken to the nearest city instead, and left in a gutter. With no money, nothing to fight with, and no knowledge of how to survive. Perhaps, in their minds, it wasn't as cruel as the wolves. Perhaps the thought had comforted them.

Perhaps, in time, even his brother had started believing them.

He kept his gaze down even after his words had run out, and he only looked up again at the sudden crash of splintering wood. Kurogane was standing up, his sword in hand, and in front of him the two halves of a young tree were slowly separating with a tortured creaking sound.

Sheathing his sword, Kurogane turned to look at his stepson, with a look of such hatred and revulsion twisting his face that Syaoran flinched away, bewildered and terrified; terrified that he was going to be left again, but also that this ripping feeling inside meant that his stepfather was the person he'd have to hurt. Just like he'd wondered, lying awake night after night, if he would've killed his brother if his parents hadn't driven him away.

And then, the strangest thing happened. Kurogane once more kneeled next to him, and for a brief moment he was pulled into a rough, awkward hug. It was over before he could even react, and in response to his shocked stare Kurogane just gave the back of his head a light smack before he stood up, not looking at Syaoran. "Have some breakfast, we're leaving. And try to leave something for the rest of us. We have a long day ahead." And with that, he stalked off, grabbing their water skins and muttering something about filling them.

Syaoran sat frozen where he was, unable to even heed to Kurogane's simple command. Without knowing it, he'd prepared himself all this time for this moment; for the time when he would be found out and left behind once more. And now, it turned out he'd waited for something that didn't even happen. It was like bracing himself for a blow that never landed, only a thousand times more disorienting. He didn't know if he should feel relieved that he wasn't going to be alone anymore, or horrified that the people around him weren't fleeing while they still could.

And then a couple of arms wrapped around him again, but this time the arms were slighter, the hug gentler. He got a faceful of hair which brought with it the mingled scents of apples, leather and something human and soft. "Don't worry," Little Cat said, her mouth right next to his ear. "It's not as if anyone of us is helpless." She leaned back, smiling brightly at him. "No matter what kind of curse you have on you, we'll be there to protect you. And if it should try to hurt _us_, we know how to defend ourselves. Don't we, Fai?" She turned to her father, who was still staring in the direction Kurogane had left.

"Hmm? Oh, yes, certainly." He smiled, and for a split second something happened to his eyes. Did they just for a moment change colour? It happened too fast for him to tell. "Don't worry. In my days I was quite powerful, I'll have you know. And I do believe Kuro-plum was too." He smiled, that cheerful, nothing-is-wrong smile that Syaoran couldn't make himself believe. "Now, you really should get ready to leave. If we don't get going soon, we won't reach Drottensburg by nightfall."

"See?" Little Cat stated contentedly, as Fai started to put out the fire. She pressed a piece of bread and some dried ham into his hand, and then held it for a few seconds before she let go. "I'm sure everything's going to be alright. Now, let's get the fuck out of here before moss starts growing on us, okay?"


	4. The Seer's conviction

**Chapter four**

**The Seer's conviction**

* * *

><p>"Let him <em>go<em>!"

The prisoner struggled against the soldiers holding him, but the man seated in front of him casually raised the tip of his sword, so that it rested almost gently against the throat of the chained man lying curled up by his feet.

"Stop that, or he dies." The statement was spoken with no malice, but with a certain amount of self-satisfaction, as if the man was considering a job well done. Around him, stone-faced men lifted their crossbows, all in one beautifully co-ordinated movement, but their master called them off with one casual wave of his large hand. The single drop of blood running down the chained man's neck from where the tip of the sword had pierced his skin was more effective than an army would've been – and if he'd needed an army, that could've been arranged.

The prisoner sagged at his words, hanging suddenly lifeless in the arms of the soldiers. But when he slowly lifted his head, his eyes were narrowed in hatred. His quiet voice, raw from screaming, thrummed with absolute conviction. "I'll make you pay for this, you bastard," he growled. "I'll find a way of freeing him, and I'll _make you pay._"

"There is no need for that," his captor replied, amused. He seemed aware of the force of the hatred that was directed toward him, and smiled benevolently at his prisoner, like an indulgent older relative towards his very favourite nephew. "All you have to do is perform one little favour for me, and I'll set your friend free."

"We don't have _time_," the prisoner raged, face twisted up in both loathing and sudden apprehension. "It's too dangerous. If he finds us..."

"Ah, yes. That determined young man working for the Circle." The man tapped the armrest of his chair, and his brow furrowed as if in deep thought. "He could be troublesome for you, couldn't he?" Then he smiled, and there was no mercy to be found in that smile. "So you should really get to work. Because I can't promise you I'll be able to keep your little friend here safe if he should find out he's here. _However,_ if you do manage to kill that abomination..." He lifted the tip of the sword a bit higher, forcing the chin of the chained man upwards. He hissed sharply as a vivid red line blossomed in startling contrast to his pale skin, and his captive brother's breath caught painfully in his throat. Their captor nodded, apparently satisfied that he had their full attention. "...If you do," he said, "I might be able to help you."

"What do you mean?" The soldiers had let go of the prisoner now, and he was standing straight with as much dignity as a captive man can muster, glaring hatefully as his brother flinched and shuddered at the touch of the blade, blood flowing unhindered from his wound.

"I mean that if that heretic priest dies, if I am given the power I seek, there will _be_ no more Mage's Circle. _I_ will determine which mages are righteous enough to wield their power, and I will of course remember the favour you have done for me." His hand on the sword was steady, his focus that of a warrior even as he spoke; he smiled in amusement as he saw his prisoner trembling with his desire to attack, stopped only by the knowledge that he'd never get there in time to save his brother. The men carrying crossbows didn't move, but their eyes followed every move the prisoner made with one simple purpose written in their features.

"And of course," the man in the chair added, as an afterthought, "I'll personally make sure that the young man hunting after you is executed."

"_No_!" the man at his feet gasped, his eyes widening in horror.

Without so much as changing his expression, his captor drew back the sword and kicked him hard in the face. He cried out and crumpled on the ground, blood gushing from his nose, and the soldiers once more had to rush forward to hold back his enraged brother. All around the room, the steely tips of two dozen bolts fixed steadily on him. But he only stopped struggling as their captor, still seated, once more raised his sword in an almost lazy, mocking gesture, this time letting the point hover right over the chained man's heart.

"It's your choice," he said simply.

"_Kamui_." The chained man's voice was barely more than a whisper. "Don't do it. _Please_."

His brother's face twisted in indecision for a moment, but then his eyes hardened. "I'll do it," he spat. "I'll kill him. But if you lay so much as a hand on Subaru again while I'm gone, I'll kill you too." His face was white and his hands were trembling, and he looked away as his brother let out a quiet sob, curling up on the floor.

Their captor chuckled quietly, but he said nothing. He'd have to kill the both of them once the deed was done, of course. He'd be sure to let this little puppet of his watch his brother die before he too perished, and as always he'd feel the satisfaction of knowing that they were getting what they deserved. What _all_ mages deserved, renegades or not. And as the Mage's Circle crumbled under its own corruption, there would be nothing to stop him from getting to the whore who blackened his son's soul.

* * *

><p>The scent of the sea alerted them of that they were approaching their goal long before they could see the actual city. Fai breathed the salty tang of the air gratefully, greeting it like an old friend, but like always there was a twinge of hurt at the memory of the first time he'd felt it.<p>

That day when he'd been brought to Celestina, Ashura waking him up from his fretful slumber so that he could gaze down upon the most beautiful city in the world. With her sprawling, busy streets, the lush expanses of her parks and gardens, and the dome of the Cathedral gleaming at her very centre, like a pearl the colour of fresh blood. He'd been fourteen then, and she'd stolen a piece of his heart away.

All those memories tied to that one, faint scent, impossible to forget once you'd felt it...

It had only been three years later, hadn't it? Yes, because he'd been seventeen when they were standing out on the Grand Pier, with the salt spray of waves splashing their faces and dripping from their hair, both of them laughing and free. It had been one of his games, one of the ones where he ran away and Ashura, affecting worry that was belied by his laughter, would chase after him. '_Yuui, you'll slip! Yuui, come back at once!'_ But of course he hadn't even tried to catch up until they were well out on the glistening stonework of the pier.

That was when he'd finally managed to gather his courage, and as a huge wave broke over the pier, completely soaking them well above their knees, he had pulled the older man close and kissed him. Ashura had gently pulled free after a few seconds, a soft gasp leaving his lips, and Fai couldn't tell if it was shock or anger, or maybe just the cold water. And then he'd looked up, and Fai had seen his own longing reflected in the soft, warm gold of Ashura's eyes, if also tinged with sadness.

"This is wrong," he'd said.

And Fai – _Yuui_ – had laughed and said that after all, they were mages. They'd live longer than most people would in any case, so what was a few years between them? And then he'd kissed him again, and this time Ashura hadn't pushed him away. It wasn't until later, much later – _too_ late, in fact – that he found out what Ashura had meant. That he hadn't been talking about their age difference, or even the fact that he was Fai's adoptive parent by law.

That he'd been right when he said that it was wrong.

He was brought back to the present with a jolt when at last they broke through the forest and were bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. The road in front of them wound along steep chalk cliffs which ended in the white roar of waves, and further along it, where the cliffs made way to white stone beaches, stood Drottensburg, city of roses. Her fair walls were gilded by the sunlight, and she looked inviting rather than foreboding, as if nothing bad could be sheltered within such a beautiful creation of men.

He glanced sideways at his travelling companions. Syaoran's wide-eyed, silent admiration spoke volumes. The young man had probably never been outside Flammen's walls from the day his parents drove him there. And considering his memories of wherever he'd lived before were, to say the least, fairly sketchy, this must be an overwhelming experience for him. Just like it had been for him, that very first day he gazed down upon Celestina. He found himself smiling at the young man, who grinned hugely back at him.

Kurogane was wearing his customary scowl, his eyes slightly narrowed as he watched the peaceful scene before him – had he been to this city before? It seemed likely, if he'd been a templar. Drottensburg was famous for its many beautiful churches, most of them dedicated to the Lord of Peace and the Mistress of the Sea, and pilgrims from all over the world travelled there to visit the grave of St. Emeraude, patron saint of children and lost souls. Had he prayed by her grave when the princess went missing? Twelve years ago... had he been a templar then?

Little Cat was stretching leisurely and looking down at the city in anticipation. They'd been there before, of course, on their continuous travels throughout Clow, and they had both enjoyed the city immensely.

Some of those churches were _extremely_ poorly guarded.

He watched her turn to smile at him, the image of a young Kurogane kneeling before the grave still in his mind, and once more he thought '_What if...?'_

But the thought was fairly ridiculous. Firstly because the royal family were all powerfully gifted, both spiritually and magically, and the plain fact was that Little Cat didn't have so much as a shred of magic in her entire body. She was, in fact, uncommonly void of any kind of mystical energy, as if she was just a bit more _real_ than the rest of the world. It was virtually impossible for a child like that to have been born to the royal family.

And secondly, it was _geographically_ ridiculous. He'd been fleeing from the Mage's Cirlcle, and had been right on the Nihon border the night he'd found Little Cat. That had been the very night the princess had gone missing. For a three-year-old to get from Celestina to a spot in the middle of the woods, some fifty miles north-northwest of St Tsubasa, all in one night, wasn't just silly, it was damn nigh impossible. There were precious few mages that would even dare to _try _performing transportation spells, and mostly these experiments concerned inanimate objects. _Not_, in fact, princesses. Especially if one wanted to keep them alive – and more to the point, in once piece – and why else would you go through the bother of dropping her in the middle of a forest instead of just killing her?

In fact, there were only three people he was _certain_ were capable of such a stunt, and he was also certain it could have been none of them. Mainly because at that very time, two of them would've been preoccupied with hunting _him_, and the third possible suspect was, in fact, him.

No. No matter how much it seemed like a ridiculous coincidence, that he should find a lost little girl in the woods the very day the princess went missing, the fact remained that Little Cat and her highness Sakura wasn't the same person. Wherever Little Cat had come from, it was of little consequence now. She was _his_ daughter, no more and no less.

* * *

><p>They decided to enter through the southern gate, not really because it was closest, but because it was the smallest and least heavily guarded. Admittedly this made it the more obvious location for an ambush, but if that was the case then they were prepared for it, and the ambushers would at least not be spoiled for backup. Besides, the southern gate lead straight into the city park, into which four people could easily get lost.<p>

Kurogane listened to Fai expansively explaining this as they walked, saying nothing. To their right the sea heaved like a huge breathing being, tinted red by the sun, which was now a mere sliver cresting the horizon. The sea was alive, and it had its own voice; it would sing, or mumble, or roar, or whisper and it would never be completely silent. Being born and raised in the deep forests bordering on Nihon, he remembered how disconcerting he'd found this when at first he'd arrived at Drottensburg to be initiated. He'd spent many sleepless nights tortured by nerves and the ceaselessly speaking voice of the sea.

_He_ had taught him to love it, just as he'd taught Kurogane to love so many other things about the world which he'd never thought he would. Just like he'd taught him to love so many things about _himself_ that he'd never thought he would. It was hard to understand, now, how he'd been able to look at himself and think he was a whole person before then. How could you be whole, when there were parts of yourself you refused to see, to respect, to love?

On their own accord, his eyes sought out Fai's lithe frame, and his mouth twitched with a grimace that he barely managed to swallow down. There was something about him, like a man dancing on the edge of a knife, running along the crest of a wave, balancing on the tip of a flame. Moving too fast, only parts of him glinting briefly in the sunlight while most of him was in shadow. Kurogane wasn't sure how he could tell from just watching Fai during this brief period of time, except that he recognized the behaviour as one he had attempted himself once, when he was clumsy and young and _stupid_. When he was incomplete. Cutting himself in two on the edge of a knife, drowning in the wake of a wave, burning at the heart of a flame.

Fai was just much, _much _better at it.

That was to say, he'd practiced being a fool until it almost was an art in itself.

Was that why Kurogane was so damn attracted to him? Not that he was attracted to idiocy, of course, but simply the fact that from their very first meeting he'd known what was wrong with Fai, and that in itself made him want to... _fix_ him. Make him whole. Complete the circle, in a way, by giving Fai what he himself had once been given.

Stupid fucking thoughts. Fai was a stranger. Why did he have to keep reminding himself of that? What insight he had was probably less related to his past experiences and more to the fact that he'd kept his fighting skills well honed. The Sight never fully went away, he'd heard veterans say when he himself was just a pup, and if you kept yourself in fighting shape it would always stay strong, no matter if the voices of the Gods had gone silent.

Not that they truly had. Kurogane just wasn't listening anymore.

He remembered what _he_ used to say, when Kurogane was angry and confused about the state of the world; when nightmares about his parents woke him up and he could not reconcile his faith with the horrors he'd seen. _The Gods love us_, he'd said, stroking Kurogane's sweat-slicked hair away from his forehead with a gentle hand. _They created this world for us out of love, and if we call out to them, they will listen. But they are not like us. They understand what we want, but not what we need. They are not like parents, who can make things right for us. Making the world right is our own responsibility, and they cannot do it for us. All they can do is try to help. And we have to help them help us._

Kurogane had not truly understood what his lover had meant by that. Not until blood was pulsing from his arm and his vision was going black, and right next to him the man he loved was dying. Not close enough for him to reach out and touch, but close enough for Kurogane to see the colour fading from his skin as his eyes, once the deep, dusky blue of summer night, froze to flat and lifeless mockeries of their old selves. Like glass marbles. Like the painted eyes of the marble statues standing vigil in the temples.

His mother's dying gasp ripped through his head, his father roared in helpless anger, and the one thing that still made sense in his world slipped out of his grasp forever. The only thing he wanted. The only thing he _needed_.

And he prayed. Prayed for things to be different, prayed as his consciousness started slipping, prayed like he never had before, with tears streaming down his cheeks and his chest heaving in sobs. Prayed to gods who didn't know good from evil, who couldn't tell that the man dying right then was the best man who had ever given his life to their service. Gods so utterly blind that just when Kurogane finally gave up hope, his voice rattling away into nothing, and he prepared himself to die... then they couldn't even allow him that small dignity.

They healed him. They brought him back. They couldn't fulfil or even understand his wish to bring back a man who was already too far gone for any prayers to help, but they _could_ give Kurogane back a life he didn't want anymore. A life in which he was shamed and reviled; in which he was forced to take the blame, which was _wrong_, even though he knew that it truly was his fault. It was wrong because the guilt was such that it belonged to him, and it wasn't anything which anyone was allowed to make an example of. But that was what they did. They took the blood that had mingled with his lover's and the tears he'd cried during his last prayer, and they had painted the world with it, and things that had belonged to Kurogane, and Kurogane alone, had been thrown out into the sunlight for everyone to see.

Many men who left the Templars closed their minds to the voices of the gods, because it was hard enough to live an ordinary life without having the eternal minds of celestial beings whispering to you, reminding you whenever you did something you knew in your heart was wrong that they could see you, they knew your heart, and they were sad for you. They did not judge, did not condemn; they left that up to you. But they grieved.

This did not bother Kurogane, because he'd lived his whole life as if his parents were watching over his shoulder; anything that would shame him would shame them, and so he did not do it. The gods had no reason to mourn on his behalf, any more than they mourned for every human being when they were hurting. He did not shut them out.

But he would no longer listen to their voices as he had in the past, would no longer seek them within himself whenever he felt as if he was wavering, whenever the world darkened and every path he could take looked dreary, bleak and cold. They had once been his fixed point, the place where his soul was always at peace, the place where a man had moved in and made him understand life like he never had before. But when he'd cried out to them, when he'd needed them the most... They had not helped him, but that was understandable. His lover had been beyond help the moment the dagger pierced his flesh and the poison entered his blood, Kurogane knew that. No, the thing that had turned him away from them forever had been their lack of understanding. He'd heard their voices in his head as he pleaded with them, the arm that was no more burning as he ached for his sword, too weak to end his own agony.

_Why does this man matter more?_

_Why would you die rather than see him do the same?_

_Why is his death more horrible than the thousands of other deaths that we witness, that we mourn, that we cannot prevent any more than we can prevent his?_

_Why are you asking us to let you die? When we can help you and not him, why would you ask us to sacrifice the one thing we can save?_

_Why are you so selfish?_

Like children, or maybe like animals. He'd been told that for all their wisdom, their minds were simple, but this? This was a mockery. A joke. He'd trusted his life, his soul to them, had tried to understand them, a drop of water yearning to understand the sea. But as it turned out, they could never even begin to understand him, nor did they seem to want to.

And then he could no longer trust his soul to them.

But the Sight remained, their last blessing and their last curse. He could see without seeing, could close his eyes and still _know_ where everything was, as if the world was a part of him and he of it in a way that was directly tangible. And he could see things for what they were, see beyond seeing. He'd known at once that Syaoran's illness came from his eye. He'd seen the dark horror and shame lodged within the creature the boy once had been, gasping on the ground and glaring at him, just another thing in his life which hadn't gone right.

He hadn't seen Fai's magic, and that worried him. He should've been able to, but it was as if Fai had found a way of keeping it all inside, just like he did with everything else, until the very fact that his mask was so perfect was what gave him away. No human had no cracks or flaws, but Fai was like an animated statue.

What Kurogane _had_ noticed that his eyes were wrong. Those crazy bright green eyes were all wrong in his face. So in a way, he guessed he _had_ noticed Fai's magic, even if he hadn't exactly known about it.

There was something about Little Cat too, but those lay too deep for him to see. Someone like a High Priest might be able to, but not him. All he got were hints and tints, all vague and hazy. Sometimes there was a sketchy something hovering in the air behind her back, but that was almost invisible to him, and probably too abstract to understand in anycase. Other times, there was someone walking behind her, his hand on her shoulder, leading her. Someone else sometimes walked in front of her, never looking back, but sometimes moving his head as if listening for her steps. Sometimes voices called for her, distorted but desperate.

Fai had companions like that too. Sometimes a child, reaching out but never touching before turning away in sadness. Sometimes a man, leaning over his shoulder. Whenever that happened, Fai suddenly froze, his pupils dilating, his face turning paper-white before the mask once more slid into place.

At least Kurogane knew about Syaoran's silent watchers now. The other Syaoran he sometimes saw clear as day, dead-eyed and focused. That was the curse. The indistinct figure that sometimes hovered in the air above him. That was whoever had cursed him. And the young man that sometimes seemed to be frozen in the air right behind him, caught in the middle of a leap, his arms stretched out... that had to be his brother.

Fai spun around, laughing at something Little Cat had said and walking backwards as if falling on one's narrow, leather-clad, well-shaped ass was something that happened to other people. Kurogane shook his head angrily, trying to clear it. The more he thought about the Sight, the clearer the images would become, and he really didn't need to be haunted by ghosts when walking into a city. He tuned out the voice of the sea, as he'd learned to so many years before, and passed the voices of memory to the place where he kept the voices of the Gods, far away from his heart and even further from his thoughts.

Before him, the gate opened into the fragrant shadows of the rose garden, the evening guards laughing and passing a jug of what was probably weak cider between them. Either that, or he hoped there would be an inspection. Getting drunk on duty ought to be a hanging offence. Fai was raising his hand in a hailing gesture, about to speak, when suddenly a round, white projectile hit him square in the chest, propelling him backwards as he let out a startled gasp.

Kurogane's first thought, idiotically enough, was: _Snowball_? This was of course immediately dismissed, seeing as it _wasn't fucking winter you asshead_. The next thought, _weapon_, arrived at the same time as his sword did in his hand. But that too was dismissed when he realized the thing was squealing. Which left only one option.

"An _animal_?" he demanded, incredulous.

The thing looked up, glaring at him with eyes that were for a moment large lavender orbs, before narrowing into indistinct slits. "Mokona is not an animal!" it proclaimed, sounding indignant, even hurt. "Mokona is a Mokona!"

Kurogane stared. Syaoran stared. Little Cat stared, open-mouthed in shock. And just for a moment, Fai's mask ripped apart and showed absolute, bone-numbing terror. Then it was overtaken with sorrow, and anger, and longing, but all of these emotions were only parts of something much larger, something that screamed silently in his eyes as he stared at the small creature clinging to his chest as if its life depended on it.

_Love_?

And then his arms were around it, pressing it to his heart, and even though Kurogane was sure he was going to squish the thing to a white pulp, it did not seem to mind. It was sobbing loudly, though, and a damp spot was spreading on the front of Fai's shirt.

"_Yuui Yuui Yuui Yuui Yuui Yuui Yuui,_" the creature was chanting over and over like a mantra, its voice pitiful and broken. Fai, still looking overwhelmed, tilted his head forward and appeared to whisper something in its ear. It looked up, its small, tear-drenched face twisted up in confusion.

"But why? Yuui...?"

Fai shook his head firmly, and the thing relented. "Fai?" it suggested hopefully. Fai smiled in return, a smile that was just as glossy and impenetrable as all the rest, but with a lot more genuine warmth behind it.

"Mokona," he said, and yes, his voice was definitely wobbling a bit. "I thought I'd never see you again. I... I thought the Circle had you destroyed."

Mokona shook its head, but it was shaking, clearly distressed. "Mokona... Mokona has been sleeping. And then he woke Mokona up."

Fai's face froze, the smile turning to wax. "Who?"

"Ashura," the creature moaned. "He woke Mokona up and told Mokona to go to you. Mokona... Mokona _had_ to. Mokona is Fai's familiar. But now Mokona is afraid. Mokona is afraid that maybe he is coming after you too and it will all be Mokona's fault."

Kurogane was sure Fai wasn't breathing for a whole minute. But then he drew a huge, gulping breath, and the smile on his face was almost manic as he turned to them. "We need to find a room right now, Kurogane. We all need to find one right now. Do you understand?"

Kurogane nodded. He did understand. He understood that Fai hadn't called him by some idiotic nickname. And all his senses, including the Sight, told him that if that was the case, there were only two things that Fai could be thinking of doing right now. Killing him, or saving his life.

He could only hope it was the latter.

* * *

><p>It was a room of still pools and gently dripping water, impossible constructs of the clearest ice imaginable holding the liquid that was almost luminescent in the bright light. It was a room of lush green plants and exorbitant, enormous flowers clinging to every available surface, all dusted by a fine layer of snow. In short, it was a room which was possible only through the use of magic, a magic that hummed and sang in the air, causing the rainbows created by the ice and the water to shatter into a dazzling miasma of colours over every surface.<p>

The beauty was breathtaking, and yet the silent observer knew that the room was dead. His magic only sustained it, keeping it frozen as it once had been, but the thing that had given it life was gone. In the room, there was the ringing silence of the absence of laughter, and on the winding paths among the ice and the flowers, light footsteps had already faded to even less than a memory. No pale gold among the crystal; no aquamarine glint of laughing eyes half-hidden behind a swathe of rich greenery, soon turning into teasing words and a body fleeing soundlessly amidst the dazzling lights. No white limbs gracefully tumbling among cascades of bubbles in one of the larger pools; no subsequent gleeful shriek, or complaints about the water temperature.

"I made this for him," Ashura said softly, his white fingers gently lifting a nodding lily as he paused to breathe in its scent. "I made him this room, and this place in the world. I set him on his path. I made sure his destiny would be set in stone. His very attempt to rebel against it has only even further affixed him in its centre."

He closed his eyes, sadness and weariness evident in every line in his face. It had aged slightly during his years spent watching the ether of the world, his mind dreaming, his body left behind to grow cold and weary. The change wasn't great, but it was unnatural for one such as he, destined to live unmarred by time for hundreds of years. And he could feel a heaviness in his limbs that hadn't been there before, a weariness to his heart which even his conviction, his cause couldn't disperse. To become completely one with the magic of the world for so long, yet not lose hold of one's own soul... it stood to reason that there was a heavy price to pay for that.

"But yet he isn't finished. No risks can be taken regarding the task he has in front of him." Ashura sighed, his fingertips dipping into cold, clear water, creating ripples which slowly spread out, colours dancing over the disturbed surface. "And I will not have him die."

The girl listened to his words, seated among lace and tall grass, silk and flowers, gossamer hair and the softest moss. Her eyes were wide and unhappy, but she said nothing. She too, like the room, was bereft. The thing which had turned her from wraith to human was gone, and in his absence she spoke to no one, and her eyes hardly even looked at the world anymore. Lost to the world, lost to time. And both had lost their importance to her.

But now she listened. Ever since Yuui's magic had crashed through the ether like a towering wave, startling her into laughter, she was starting to wake up. And so was her master, although sleep still clung to him like a disease.

"What he did was an accident," Ashura mused quietly, as she shifted restlessly, the springy grass rustling around her. "It's true that I got... a sense of his path, but the images were distorted by the power of it, and gone far too soon. Somehow, we need to make sure he uses it again. But how? He is only liable to be even more cautious from now on." He sighed, and the slightest note of irritability could found in his voice. "Chii, I believe-"

And then Chii's head shot up, her eyes widening. She tried to hide her reaction just a moment later, once she realized the implications of it, but it was already too late. He'd seen it. And now, as he once more turned his mind to the ether, he could feel what she had felt. The seer's eyes widened in surprise, and then he softly sank to the floor where he was standing, his face expressing shock and, strangely, fear.

"He is using magic again," he mumbled, staring blindly into the brilliant light shining down from above. "But why? He _knows_ that it will allow me to track him. Unless..." He blinked, as the magic he'd been tracking abruptly stopped, and he was met by a blank, impenetrable wall. "A shield," he whispered softly. "But that would mean... it _has _to mean... that he thinks that I have already found him..."

For a long while, silence prevailed in the vast room, only punctuated by the falling of water and the seer's uneven breathing. Chii watched, shivering, even though the air was warm and humid, fragrant and pleasant. She already knew where Yuui was, but Ashura knew better than to try to get it from her. She'd sooner see herself destroyed than betray her only friend in such a manner. Alive, she was useful, and her death would give him nothing.

She wondered, staring at his paper-white face, how someone to whom cruelty had always been an unthinkable option, still could achieve it to such deadly perfection. Without trying. It was yet another thing about humanity she did not understand, and one of the reasons she would always see herself as set apart.

"What game is being played here?" Ashura mumbled. "And why? And will I, through beginning my search for Yuui, play right into that player's hands?"

For a moment, a silent less shocked and more frightened – and then Ashura's face softened into a gentle smile. He got slowly to his feet, brushing off the snow clinging to his sleeves with a preoccupied gesture, his eyes far away already. "It does not matter, of course. Once I've found him, once he's killed me, nothing will. He'll be invincible."

* * *

><p>The swirling letters faded in the air, but Fai could still see their imprint there, almost-there contours and faint reflections of light. His body was alive with magic, thrummed with it, and for a moment he didn't want to let it go. It would be impossible to lie to himself, to claim he hadn't missed it; the heady rush of power burning in his blood, the thrill of manipulation. Even for him, it was a self-deception too vast to swallow.<p>

He turned to watch the others, seeing Little Cat's and Syaoran's eyes widen even more at the sight of the faint glow to his skin, the way his hair swirled weightlessly around his face, his _eyes_. Kurogane crossed his arms with a small sound, his eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly. Such a distrustful man, truly. Then again, he'd been right not to trust Fai. Syaoran, too, had suspicion written in the tightness of his mouth, and the way his hands curled into fists. But Little Cat, while clearly overwhelmed by the sight, still showed no signs of either fear or mistrust. She smiled instead, encouraging and bright, and the only shadow cast over her expression was her worry.

Digging his nails into the palms of his hands, he pulled the magic pack, purged it from his body, forced it into that black nothing-place in his soul from which nothing would come unless he called for it. He'd always known that such methods were directly flirting with the darker kinds of magic, but he'd never had the temperament appropriate for following rules. And he'd always had a lot to run from.

He knew without having to see it that his eyes remained blue, even after the magic had gone and left nothing but a hollow fatigue in its wake. It would fade, soon enough, but every time he used magic it would linger more and more, until finally it wouldn't go away. And then he'd see the death of his twin whenever he looked at his own face.

"So, you gonna tell us what the fuck is going on now?" Kurogane growled. "And no, that wasn't no damn _request_. Spill it, mage."

Picking Mokona up in his arms and cradling his familiar close, unable to handle separation for very long now that he no longer had to, he sighed quietly and met Kurogane's gaze. "I'm sure you've already figured out that there is someone I'm running from."

Little Cat just nodded, causing her father to flinch, but Kurogane gave him an uncomfortably sharp smile. "Sure I do. Long black hair, pale face, golden brown eyes. Who is he?"

Fai stared at him, feeling as if his heart was about to stop, not understanding. _How_? How had he _seen_...? No, it was impossible, he couldn't have...

Kurogane snorted. "You already know I'm an old templar. Use that damn brain for something other than coming up with stupid nicknames. His memory is all over you. So _who is he_?"

He still had the Sight? Of course, Fai should've known it; he'd seen the man fight. But it was still a worrying thing to realize about his companion. What else could he see? "Ah, of course," he said, failing miserably at keeping his voice steady. "Yes. He is... an old friend. I used to work for him. But we... fell out about something, something rather important, and he didn't take it too well. I found that the only way to solve the matter was to... escape."

"If you're going to cut away that much of the truth, then you might as well be lying. And if you're gonna lie anyway, then you might as well keep your mouth shut." Kurogane's voice was a lethal growl. "That aside, you can never solve anything by running away, and if that's truly your reason for running, then you're an idiot."

Fai said nothing; there was nothing he _could_ say, no way of explaining that wouldn't mean telling them all of it. And there were no words for that, no way of explaining the _betrayal_, the _anger_ he'd felt... So he simply smiled, tilting his head slightly to the side, earning him a disgusted grunt from Kurogane. "Fuck you, then. And you're worried he's found you now. Because of that... thing." He nodded at Fai's familiar. "Is that it?"

"Yes, Kuro-pie, you might say that. You see, _Mokona_, who prefers being called by name, is my familiar. When I left the Circle, Mokona was caught in a summoning spell, and only moments later... disappeared. I couldn't feel anything. So I assumed the Circle had ordered my familiar destroyed in order to weaken me."

Pain resounded through their link, and Mokona whimpered silently in his arms.

"I still do not quite understand what happened," Fai confessed quietly. "They must have sealed Mokona away, thinking to find use for out bond if I should ever start using my magic again. Or perhaps Yuuko..." He closed his eyes, not particularly wanting to think about what kind of involvement that woman might have in this. He'd hoped that she wouldn't be interested in pursuing him, that it wasn't within her level of interference, and he didn't much like to think about what it would be like to find out he was wrong. For one thing, he'd have to figure out the reason why she hadn't found him yet. "I don't know," he repeated. "But somehow, Ashura must've found out where Mokona was kept."

"You don't think he could've had... it all this time?" Syaoran demanded, and Fai looked at him in surprise, before smiling warmly.

"No, although it is a valid question, Syaoran," he admitted. "Most magic users would need me to be using my magic constantly to find me via Mokona. But Mokona being here means that Ashura could find me – or at least my destination – and direct Mokona there, just from our link and a very short burst of magic. Too short to read any substantial information from it. If he's truly become that powerful, I honestly don't believe he would have kept Mokona sealed away for all these years, just waiting."

"Mokona doesn't remember much," his familiar said softly. "It's strange. Mokona only remembers Ashura's face, and Ashura saying 'Here is where I want you to go'. And then Mokona just knew, and Mokona _had_ to leave. Because Mokona _has_ to be where Y- where Fai is."

"Sounds like someone messed with Creampuff's head, if you ask me," Kurogane said, giving the familiar a suspicious glare. "Can't you do that, with magic? Fuck someone up if you want them to not remember something?"

"Maybe," Fai admitted, not liking the thought. "But then again, magical sleep can leave one disoriented all on its own. In any case speculating won't help us now. The point is that Ashura will be tracking me now, and if he finds me he will fight me. I will need to ward all our rooms, and keep a protective shield up at all times. And you know what that means."

Kurogane groaned. "No damn horses."

"No horses," Fai confirmed with a special smile just for that; just to have Kurogane glaring fiercely at him and have the pleasure of winking at him. "The magical discharge within the shield will scare them out of their wits, and they will be more trouble than they're worth."

"We're going to Celestina on foot?" Syaoran demanded a bit weakly. "With Lord Rondart chasing after us, too?"

"Oh, grow a pair," Little Cat said cheerfully, smacking him on the shoulder and causing him to turn an almost impossible shade of red. "We always go everywhere on foot, it's no problem. It's going to be fun, isn't it?"

Fai met her glance, thinking of all the things that he couldn't tell her, and how she knew there were things that he wasn't telling her. And still she trusted him. Completely. He laughed lightly, feeling his heart starting to break. "Of course it's going to be fun."


	5. The start of the game

**A/N: **The last part of this chapter is easier read if you can look at the beautifully made rendition of Yuuko's magic circle found at this link: http:/ shinigami3. deviantart. com/art /Yuuko-s-Magic-Circle- 116707646 (without the spaces). Since I have the artistic talent of the common vole, I think it is easy to figure out that it wasn't made by me.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five<strong>

**The start of the game  
><strong>

* * *

><p>"<em>Talk<em> to me!"

There was something truly frightening about how those always so direct eyes now avoided his, how the other man bowed his head so that his pearly grey hair fell over them, obscuring them from view. He'd never seen Yukito act like this, but ever since his collapse two days earlier they had been doing this dance of frustration and avoidance over and over, until it felt like they were repeating slightly different versions of the exact same conversation.

"Please, your highness-"

"Don't you _dare_ 'highness' me right now, Yukito. _Don't you dare_."

Yukito sighed, hiding his face behind his hands. "Touya... please." He looked so very tired, slumped forward like that, his voice grating with lack of sleep, and for a moment it was hard being angry, hard to remember that he has reason to be.

"You can't keep avoiding me," he said nonetheless, but the edge was gone from his words. The frustration seeped slowly away and left only hurt, deep and open and festering more and more the longer Yukito kept acting like this.

"But there is _nothing_ more I can tell you." Even though his voice was slightly muffled by his hands, Touya could hear that it was on the verge of breaking.

"So," Touya growled, crossing his arms, "you stand up in the middle of a meeting, in front of everyone, you go as white as a sheet, call out my sister's name and keel over in a dead faint, and you have _nothing_ to say about it? Nothing at _all_? Don't give me that damn bullshit, Yukito, because I'm not buying it. You can fool the others, but that you think for even a second that you can do the same to _me_..."

Yukito flinched visibly even though he still didn't look up, his fingers curling slightly. "Why would I lie to you?" he mumbled wretchedly, and there was something strange about the way he said it, as if he was really _asking_, not just posing a rhetorical question. But Touya was too agitated to try and make sense of it at this point, and only looked away.

"I don't want to accuse you of lying, Yuki. But at this point... the way you act... what am I supposed to think? Something about what happened back there upsets you, frightens you even, I can _see_ that. You can't sleep – did you think _I_ wasn't going to notice that?"

Yukito sighed again. "Your highness-" he began, but Touya grabbed him by the wrist, hard, digging his nails in and forcing the priest to look up, his eyes pleading. "Touya," he amended, and the prince let go. "I know that this must upset you. Your sister-"

"This isn't just about my sister," Touya interrupted impatiently, and as Yukito's eyes widened slightly in shock, he shook his head in disgust. "This is about _us_ too, can't you see that? I'm just as upset about... about you acting all strange and closed-up, as I am about the only lead on my little sister in _years_ apparently being impossible for you to talk about. _Just_ as damn upset, do you get it? Do you see now?"

He knew it was a low blow, but he hadn't realized just how low. Yukito blinked and looked away, swallowing hard, and Touya realized to his horror that just for a fraction of a section, there had been _tears_ in his eyes. Yukito had always been the calmer of the two of them, the more composed – the tear-filled tantrums had always been _his_ when they were children, while Yuki stayed quiet and peaceful, comforting him. He'd cried over _some_ things, bigger things, but often in complete silence, and never for very long. And after he'd come back from the wars to resume his studies, Touya hadn't even seen him close to tears once. In fact, the last time...

...the last time he remembered Yukito crying was when Sakura went missing. Yuki had been fourteen then, he just about to turn thirteen, and he remembered the look on his best friend's face that morning. It was as if everything within him had shattered, as if nothing could put the world right again, and he'd stumbled and almost fallen right into Touya's arms, sobbing apologies because after all it wasn't _his_ sister, he was selfish to act like this, he was just being a bother and he was so sorry, so sorry... And Touya had numbly held him, his own tears for once coming quiet, and he'd murmured that no, it was fine, he understood. And he did. As far as _he_ was concerned, Sakura was Yuki's sister too, and he had just as much right as anyone to be crushed and helpless. _More_ right than most people, in fact.

A whole kingdom wept for the little princess, but the prince and his best friend wept for the clumsy, cheerful toddler who had already been starting to get on their nerves. They wept for Sakura; for everything she'd been and everything she was never going to be. They had wept for her as if she was dead, because back then it had been too painful for them to hope. They had watched the efforts to find her with lethargic indifference, and had felt almost nothing when every attempt turned out to be in vain.

_Almost_ nothing.

And now here was Yukito, looking once more, for the shortest of moments, like he was going to cry. Not even two days after he'd suddenly called out her name in front of a whole congregation of people, eyes fixed on some point far away, before he crumpled to the floor almost without a single sound. Touya had been sitting right next to him, and so he hadn't quite managed to catch his expression, but he'd heard everything from "anguished" to "elated". From the way Yukito was behaving, he was given to believe more in the former than the latter.

There was something tense about Yukito's expression now, and a strange set to his mouth, as if he too was frustrated or angry. But that was impossible, wasn't it? Yukito just... didn't get upset like that. Sad, maybe, or nervous. Usually, though, he just got even more determined, displaying a self-discipline that Touya could only wish he possessed. Still he couldn't help but wonder, as Yukito clenched his fists so hard that the knuckles whitened.

"It felt like her," he said at length, so quietly that Touya almost couldn't hear him.

"It... what?"

"There was a feeling about her. About the princess." Yukito's words came reluctantly, as if every syllable that was pulled from his lips and from his heart caused him great pain. "Most people couldn't feel it. It went too _deep_, that's what they said. Your mother can feel it. Haven't you wondered why you haven't seen her since? She's locked herself in the innermost room of the cathedral, the holiest place there is, and she is giving thanks and praying. Praying that if it was Sakura that we felt, she will be brought here safely." His eyes darkened, as if the thought frightened him, and Touya felt the first spark of happiness that Yukito's words had brought about swiftly dying.

"Why didn't she tell us?" he asked instead, his voice coming out leaden and flat. Yukito shook his head with a shaky sigh that was almost shy of laughter, although it was of a barren and cheerless nature.

"She didn't have the heart," he said. "She didn't want to burden anyone else with hope. It might still not be her."

"And why's that?" He didn't want to know, not really, but he knew that he had to ask.

"Because the princess' power, when I felt it last, was nothing but a whisper. It was... the old High Priest said that it felt as if one of the gods had been watching on the day she was born, its shadow falling over her, and it had left her with something of its essence. Like an echo, or a memory. We believed it to be a small disturbance in the world, within which she might be able to change its course. Highly unusual, certainly, but fairly harmless. But if this truly was her that we felt two days ago..." Yukito shuddered, his face ashen. "Then her power has grown beyond compare. Possibly beyond control. And if she's unaware of it, she's potentially the most dangerous being alive right now."

Touya found that he could only shake his head, in silent denial of the unfathomable, _impossible_ things Yukito was saying. But now the other man took his hand, grasping it hard, too hard; holding onto it as if he was suddenly afraid of slipping away. "That feeling, Touya... I... I haven't felt anything like it since the day I was made High Priest. You remember that, don't you?"

How could he forget? To be made High Priest you had to take part of the memories of all those which had come before, so that you could be a part of a long, unbroken line of thousand-year experience and wisdom. This was accomplished by letting one of the gods coexist with you for just a moment; any longer and it would destroy you. It differed from priest to priest which god it was that would choose them, and it was said that the influence you would have as High Priest would be dependent on the influence of the god. The stronger the god, the mightier the priest, that's what they said, although Nadeshiko held that for folly.

Yukito was chosen by the Prince of the Moon. And though Touya had tried he was quite sure he'd never be rid of that image, never forget what it was like to see Yukito fading away to leave room for that ice-cold, terrifying being. For a moment eyes that were as blue as the heart of polar ice flickered over Touya, and if there was any feeling there then it was too vast for him to comprehend. All he felt was numbing cold, as an immense silence filled his heart and he couldn't even breathe for fear of breaking it. Silver wings then unfolded, and he knew he'd never seen anything so beautiful in all his life before.

And then the god left. Silver-white hair darkened to grey, those terrible blue eyes warmed, and for a moment Touya felt a great emptiness, as if he'd just lost something that he would never have again. And then he'd forced that feeling away with disgust and horror, running to Yukito's aid as he crumpled to the floor, holding him close as he shook and cried out in pain and loss, whispering in between that he didn't want him to go, that he was all alone now. His eyes had been wide with fear, but dry, and not even then had he cried a single tear. And after a while he had calmed and stilled, and a tired smile had touched his lips. _"But they are all with me now,"_ he had said, and then he'd simply fallen asleep, deep and blessedly dreamless.

"Yes. I remember."

That was all he had to say. Yukito should know what he was thinking of, and that he now understood his terror better. The power of the god had been so immense, so overpowering, that just that one short moment had left scars too deep to ever heal. And now Yukito said that another mortal being – that _his little sister_ – had powers that rivalled it?

If that really was true, and not as impossible as it sounded... then for the first time he feared what Sakura's return might bring.

* * *

><p>Syaoran would never have believed that he'd end up getting lectured by a very pretty girl about the finer points of thievery and fencing, but that was in fact what he spent several hours with that evening. Fai was apparently preparing something for his magic, something that included murmuring strange words at a gemstone and making it grow brighter with each strange infliction. Whatever his own father was doing seemed to mostly involve trying to fry Fai into a crisp with his stare, and he didn't seem to be succeeding. Since the tense silence was getting awkward, Little Cat started detailing to Syaoran their plans to see a fence for some money later that night, and this eventually turned into said lecture.<p>

Syaoran had been a thief when he was younger, but not nearly as professional as Little Cat and Big Cat were. He'd just preyed on the drunk and stupid, going for money, because trying to sell a valuable object would've been pointless. Attempting it would just result in the object being taken from him any old how, and who could he complain to when he'd stolen it in the first place? So he'd never known how much work you apparently had to put into simple thievery.

"We got jewellery the last time," Little Cat said, casually tipping out a black leather sack on the floor. Long strings of pearls coiled like snakes on the floor, rattling ominously against the floorboards. Rings bounced and skittered, casting reflexes as they wobbled away and then fell flat with surprisingly heavy sounds. Gold chains, bracelets, ornamental hatpins, brooches.

"Where did you get all this?" Syaoran mumbled, dumbfounded and uncomfortable with being presented with this amazing wealth, no doubt amounting to more money than he'd ever seen in his life.

"From a store, of course," Little Cat said with a mischievous wink. "Just not the usual way."

Syaoran nodded, surprised at how disquieted he felt at the thought. Introspective and analytic as he was, he'd still never really reflected on how much his time with Kurogane had changed his view of the world. All he could think of now was what must've happened with the shopkeeper, if he'd perhaps lost his livelihood, or if maybe someone innocent had been blamed for the whole incident. Little Cat and Big Cat were decent, considerate people, and probably wouldn't rob someone who wasn't very well off, but...

But what, demanded the street rat that still lived somewhere inside him. Who cared what happened with rich people? They made their living off of people who were poorer than them, so wasn't it just fair if others made a living off of them?

But that was simplistic and unfair, and he recognised it as such. Being rich didn't make a person _bad_, and it certainly didn't mean that you deserved losing everything more than people who had less to lose. And decent and considerate as the two thieves were, Syaoran was pretty sure that there was no way for them to know everything about the people they robbed; if they perhaps had a sick relative depending on them, or debts they needed to repay, or if they were in the habit of giving away a part of their earnings to the poor and destitute... The possibilities were endless, and there was no way of covering them all.

And he couldn't say this to Little Cat, not without coming off as if he was judging her, and he really wasn't. Sometimes, life would give you no other option than what most people would consider dishonest, immoral, and you just had to do your best with what you'd been given. And if the two of them had to keep travelling because of whoever it was hunting after Fai, then there really wasn't that many options except thievery.

Things were just... difficult.

"That's a lot of money, isn't it?" was all he said, running his fingers over an enamel brooch, cold butterfly wings in red and gold.

"Not really," Little Cat said with a shrug. "Not as much as the jeweller would've made, anyway. All of these pieces are hot, the way they look now. No fence would accept something that's this easy to recognize. So we strip off the jewels and we melt down the gold and we sell it all in bits and pieces. But it's worth less like that. Worth even less than what the jeweller paid from them in the first place, because that's how it is with swag. The fence has got to make a profit too, after all."

Her voice was matter-of-fact, and Syaoran thought that she must've known this since she was too little to even understand it. He took it all in, watching her play idly with a ruby-encrusted ring, as if it was nothing more valuable than a bauble, a toy. "How d'you melt down the gold?" he demanded. "I mean, it's not really something you can mess around with at home by the fireside, right?"

"Of course not." She smiled widely at him, as if she was genuinely happy that he was catching on, and Syaoran once more felt himself go red. He knew Kurogane thought he was being silly, but the fact was that despite how awkward he was in her presence, he still felt more comfortable, more free with her than he ever had with anyone else before. This realization overwhelmed him slightly, staggered him, and this in turn wasn't really helping with his constant blushing and stuttering at all, but it _did_ fan the initial spark of attraction into something deeper, something _more_. And if that was silly... well, there wasn't much to do about it.

"So, how d'you do it?" he prompted after having been derailed by her smile for a while.

"Well, there are certain places, certain people that you find out about when you've been in the business for a while. For most of the time they're ordinary craftsmen, but just now and then they'll lend some help in the shady kind of business transactions." She ran her fingers over a thin gold chain, and then shrugged. "But that'd take too much time right now. So we're just gonna chip loose the most valuable of the gemstones and slip off to our usual fence."

"Can I help?" The question was instinctive, and Syaoran said it with absolutely ulterior motive. But as he was rewarded by the most brilliant smile he'd seen yet, and then later by Little Cat's hands on his as she taught him the finer arts of gemstone removal, he was suddenly very grateful that Kurogane had taught him to always be helpful and polite – even if his father didn't exactly practice what he preached. It had, after all, been for his own good.

* * *

><p>"<em>Och om mitt hjärta darrar, och likblek är min kind...<em>"

Kurogane blinked in the gloom, and after a few confused, vaguely panicked seconds he realized that it couldn't be morning yet. It wasn't his inner clock that had woken him up, but Fai's voice, muted and soft as it wound its way through the melancholy melody. As Kurogane propped himself up on his elbow, he found the mage sitting by the foot of Little Cat's bed. A single candle was burning, and his head was bowed, so his face was partly in shadow. But his wide open eyes still shone blue, pure and haunting.

His daughter was curled up next to him in a tight ball of blankets and messy hair, and in his lap the white creature, the familiar, slept the deep sleep of something that had consumed enough food for a grown man while still being roughly the size of a small melon. He didn't seem to be singing to either of them. But maybe, without knowing it, he was singing to the curled-up figure of a child by his feet, barely visible right now to Kurogane's Sight except for his eyes. They were the colour of polished gold, shiny and bright with tears which would not fall.

"…_det vet du inget av, du är försvunnen som en vind, försvunnen som en vind."_

"Valerian," Kurogane remarked in the silence that followed, and Fai almost jumped where he sat before composing himself and smiling at him.

"Now you know Valerian too? My, aren't you full of surprises," he teased, idly scratching Mokona behind one long ear.

"No, I don't," Kurogane replied with just the faintest hint of annoyance. "But I had a…" The lie twisted itself on his tongue and almost strangled his voice, but he managed to press out the hateful word anyway."…_friend _who does. Did. He's dead now."

Fai didn't automatically say, "I'm sorry," like most people would've, and Kurogane was glad for it. Sorry wasn't enough, not if you'd known him. And if you hadn't, then you had no business pretending like you cared. "Was he from Valeria then, your friend?" the mage asked instead, a safe question, not prying or poking. But there was an infliction on the word 'friend' which suggested he questioned it. Kurogane choose to simply ignore it.

"No. But you are, ain't you? I've heard people there all look like they're made from matchsticks and paper. Skinny, pale bunch, just like you." Just like the child by Fai's feet too… except that now that he really looked, it wasn't Fai's natural gangliness so much as the emaciated frailty of sickness. The child's translucent hands looked like claws.

Fai chuckled quietly. "You have such a way with words, Kuro-syrup. It's impressive, because I don't think you're even _trying_ to be offensive. But yes, I am Valerian by birth, even though I don't even remember anything of the country."

"How'd you get here?" Kurogane asked, intrigued despite himself. "Everyone knows Valerians hate mainlanders."

Fai made a small, amused sound at the back of his throat. "Oh no. 'Hate' requires at least a basic level of respect, Kuro-treat. No, the Valerians _despise_ mainlanders, they view us as lowly and barbaric and unworthy of anything else. If there's anything Valerians do hate… well, it's probably other Valerians."

"You're not very kind about your own birth-people," Kurogane noted.

"Is that disapproval I hear in your voice, Kuro-pudding?" Fai singsonged, but his smile melted into a sigh as Kurogane glared. "I'm not saying that Valerians are horrible people. But Valeria in itself…"He shook his head, unconsciously reaching out to touch Little Cat's hair. "…_is_ truly horrible. It has turned into a back-stabbing, poisonous country; where the poor are worked into early graves and the rich die more often by someone else's hand than of old age." He smiled mirthlessly. "Of course I don't remember this myself. But I have read the history, and I remember what my parents told me when I was a bit older. There are so many unspoken rules, so many alliances, so much superstition... The last especially is a poison to the whole society."

"And you still haven't answered my question," Kurogane noted. "How did you and your family end up here? You said 'us' before, so you don't count yourself as a Valerian anymore."

"I don't," Fai agreed. "And neither do Valerians. Once you've left, they consider you an outsider from then and on. And with everything I've just told you, it shouldn't be too hard for a clever man like you to figure out how we got here."

Kurogane sat up, leaning his back against the cold brick wall and watching Fai closely. He didn't want to tell this story, and still he was. He just wanted Kurogane to figure out things for himself to he could tell himself that he hadn't _really _told him, just answered his questions. And Kurogane didn't like the idea of playing along with the mage's self-deception, but at the same time… he wanted to _know_. He shouldn't want to, but he did, and he wasn't going to try to fool himself that he didn't. He left that kind of shit nonsense to Fai.

"Political refugees," he said. "Your family ended up in trouble and had to escape. From the way you were talking I'm guessing that it had something to do with some kind of superstition, something bad enough to make your parents flee even if that meant being mainlanders and never coming back again." Fai had gone even paler now, and Kurogane couldn't help smiling, grim and feral, as he went in for the kill. "So I'd say it was something to do with _you_."

He was watching the boy by Fai's feet as he said it, and as he'd suspected he did react, but not as he'd expected him to. The Sight showed secrets; often it showed memories long buried, or silenced guilt; sometimes it showed things that were forgotten, and sometimes they showed things someone wanted to forget. And when someone else came too close to a secret like that, it wasn't uncommon for them to try to flee. But the child looked right at him – right _through_ him – and his golden eyes were pleading and sad.

Fai smiled a strange, hollow smile. "You really are far _too_ clever, Kuro-sugar," he said, and his voice sounded flatter and duller than before.

"Are you gonna tell me or not?" Kurogane demanded gruffly, still maintaining eye-contact with the child. He'd never seen this happen before. There was a secret here that _wanted_ to be told, even though Kurogane was fairly certain it also was a secret which Fai would rather die than give up the truth about. At least for now.

"There is a very old superstition in Valeria," Fai said so suddenly that Kurogane was caught off guard completely. "It's one of the oldest tales, and it is also part of the Valerian religion, such as it is. To them, birth date and place are very important, and are said to determine the fate of every individual. And the superstition is that if two people are born on the same day, by the same mother… then they share one fate. And since it is not possible for two people to live the same life, sooner or later one of the twins has to die at the hands of the other." Fai fell silent for a moment, his eyes distant and flat as the moon, and by his feet the child shivered. "According to this superstition, the one that is born first is the 'real' child, while the other is a usurper placed there by evil powers. And so all second-born twins in Valeria are drowned."

Kurogane nodded. Now he knew how the story went. "Your mother realized she was carrying twins. So she made sure she was alone when she birthed you, and then she refused to tell which one was born first."

"Even better. She made sure that she didn't know." Fai chuckled unhappily. "Which of course meant that they sentenced us all to die."

Kurogane grimaced in disgust. "You're right. That place _is_ fucking horrible. So how'd you get away?"

"Magic," Fai said, once again speaking the word as if it was poisonous. "My mother and father were both mages – it is uncommon for Valerians to be born without at least a little magic. And they realized that both their children were uncommonly powerful. So communicated in secret with the Mage's Circle, and struck a deal with them. They would help the four of us to flee, and in exchange their children would be bound to serve the Mage's Circle. They thought it was a cheap price to pay for our safety."

There was something about the way he said it, screaming silently in loss, but even more in anger, and moments later something happened to the ghost child by his feet. He started wasting away, growing thinner and paler as Kurogane watched. Swallowing the bile rising in his throat, he forced himself to keep looking until at last there was nothing but bones and hair and rotting cloth, and then nothing. That was a clue too, he thought, head ringing with some horrible emptiness. Without a word being spoken about it, he now knew for sure that Fai's twin was dead. He wondered if Fai knew he'd figured it out. The mage wasn't looking at him anymore, and it was impossible to tell.

"_Inatt jagar vargar, inatt är varganatt,_

_Och barnet mitt det gråter…"_

Kurogane lay down again. Fai wasn't going to say more, he knew that, so he might as well try to get some sleep. But for a long while he lay awake, watching the shadows wandering over the ceiling as the candle slowly burned down, listening to the mage singing songs to a shadow that was no longer there.

* * *

><p>Watanuki watched in apprehensive silence as the Head Magician reverentially lifted a slim black lacquered box strewn with stars onto the small table in front of her. "Now, this is very important. Pay close mind, Watanuki. Oh, and my glass is empty, by the way. You really ought to be more attentive, you know."<p>

Her apprentice didn't even deign to answer to that, but once more filled up her glass with golden, sweet-smelling liquor. "What is it?" he demanded instead, intrigued against his will. Yuuko smiled secretively, and then flicked the box open with a dramatic gesture that almost swept her glass to the floor. She managed to catch it without spilling a drop, and then subsequently emptied it, as Watanuki stared and tried to make something of what he saw except for the blatantly obvious. He failed. "It's a gameboard?" he finally ventured, sounding rather unimpressed. "The kind you use for playing Conquest or Knight Errant."

"Exactly," Yuuko exclaimed, all but clapping her hands in glee. "But then again, not quite. Do you notice anything different with it?"

Watanuki frowned. "I've never seen a circle like this before. Aren't those Valerian religious symbols around the edge?"

"That they are," Yuuko agreed, grinning. "And that's because it's my circle, you see." She dragged her finger along the edge of the circle, and a golden glow started seeping through the cracks between the ivory and mahogany.

Watanuki raised his eyebrows, surprised. "You don't exactly look Valerian, Yuuko. And I thought you said once that your family was from Nihon?"

"My father's family," Yuuko corrected airily. "But that is neither here or there, I should think. Is there something else you can tell me about the game?"

Watanuki shrugged. "Not really. But I'm sure you're going to tell me."

Yuuko gave him an annoyed look and held up her glass for another refill. "Pieces, Watanuki. The board is empty."

Her apprentice rolled his eyes. "Well, yes, obviously. So where are the pieces?"

"Right here." She dangled a velvet bag in front of his nose, and after another swig from her glass she plunged a white hand into it, coming out with…

"Well, I know which one that is," Watanuki said confidently. "That's a Mage. So it's a game of Conquest, right?"

"Don't make assumptions like that, it makes you sound like a fool." Yuuko smirked, ignoring Watanuki's indignant spluttering, and placed the opal figurine on a symbol that looked to Watanuki like the numerial for two on a clock. "There, now we've got our white Mage. And next out is our Knight."

"But that's a piece from Knight Errant," Watanuki protested. "Anyway, that's a black piece. Shouldn't it be on the other team?"

"What did I tell you about assumptions?" Yuuko snapped. "And no, he's definitely on our team." She carefully placed the obsidian Knight on a sign that looked like an M with a pointy tail, and then glared at it. "Look at that. Far too far away from the mage. How am I supposed to play like this? Both pieces are practically useless on their own, you know. But to bring them together I first need to get these two out of the way." She rooted in the bag and came out with two pieces, one black and one white.

Watanuki crossed his arms. "I don't know what game you're playing, but there is no way you're allowed to have two High Priests on the same team. That's impossible. Even if we're happening to talk strange and rather tasteless metaphors, I might add."

Yuuko smiled indulgently at him, as if her favourite dog had just performed a clever trick. "Exactly. But look at this one." She held up the black High Priest so that the light shone right through the smoky quartz. "He's only a ghost, do you see?" She placed this figurine on the sign next to the Knight in the counter-clockwise direction. The other High Priest figurine, carved out of moonstone, she placed on the sign one step clockwise from the Mage.

"Oh, I see," Watanuki said sarcastically. "A ghost piece. Because that's not like cheating at all."

Yuuko smiled smugly. "Making your own rules is not the same as cheating. Now, where is our Page…?" Some further rooting in the bag unearthed the required Knight Errant piece, carved out of perfectly clear quartz.

"And that's another ghost, is it?" Watanuki demanded sourly.

"Your brother? Absolutely not. I told you he was alive, didn't I?" She placed the Page on an arrowlike sign, right next to the Knight. Watanuki gave her an uneasy glance, and then reached out to gently brush his fingers over the cold, smooth stone figurine.

"My brother?"

"Of course. You didn't think this was just a game, did you?" Yuuko met his questioning gaze steadily. "No game is ever 'just' a game, Watanuki. It always means something, whether or not the players are aware of it. And this… this is a very important game. And that means we need one of these." She fished out yet another piece from the bag, holding it up triumphantly so that the light caught on the black opal and made it shine bright orange. Watanuki stared blankly at it.

"That's a…"

"Cat!" Yuuko filled in gleefully.

"But that's not even a piece from either game," Watanuki protested feebly, looking like he was just about to give up on even questioning Yuuko's doings. The Head Magician patted his hand arm comfortingly.

"Exactly. No game is complete without something completely unexpected. Now, at the moment she's here…" Yuuko placed the cat on the squiggly sign on the other side of the white High Priest. "But that's all wrong, of course. I need to move either her or your brother, because she needs to be much closer to the Page. But then again, no matter how it's done, that is a very dangerous place to be."

"The curse," Watanuki mumbled, watching the way his brother's piece shattered the light into rainbows, which danced over the board beneath.

"Exactly." Yuuko drummed her fingers against the boards for a moment, then she shook her head and fished out a new piece.

"A King?"

"Technically, yes, but he is actually only a Prince." She held it a few moments and then shook her head, placing the statue, which looked as if it was carved of mother-of-pearl, outside the board. "I don't know if he's going to play a part yet. No… for now, I think we'd better concentrate on our opponent." Her hand landed at the centre of the board. "Now, what are the characteristics of the one playing centre in Conquest, Watanuki?"

Her apprentice blinked, surprised by the pop question, but then rapidly started reciting. "Eh… the centre player has fewer pieces, usually, but has the advantage of starting first, and of higher mobility on the board. And while the one playing outer circle may attack with several pieces at once, his pieces are individually stronger and harder to destroy."

"Very well put." Yuuko fished out a new piece, this time once again a Knight Errant piece. It was a Pawn, the carved ivory decorated with blue. "Lord Rondart. A simple Pawn, but he is directly controlled by our opponent, and thus dangerous." She sat the piece down on the symbol of the dark moon. Next she picked out a white Oracle, and placed him on the symbol for the full moon. "Ashura. He is not in the hand of our enemy, but he is nonetheless an opposing force, whether he knows it or not. And look, he is far too close to our Mage. An Oracle can easily out-maneuver a Mage, of course, but not if we get the Knight there in time."

"This is morbid," Watanuki pointed out, and to his utter lack of surprise he was ignored.

Next out of the bag were two black Mages, placed on the waning crecent and the waning gibbous, facing each other. "Now these two are dangerous. If our opponent gets this one," she tapped the piece standing on the symbol for the waning crescent, "into play, then the game is as good as lost. High Priest falls to Mage. But if we manage to remove his brother," her finger gently touched the other black Mage, "then the balance is destroyed and our opponent can no longer use either piece. I already have a piece selected for this particular task," she held up a black Page carved out of glossy hematite, "but I cannot play him yet."

"Well," Watanuki said, watching the board critically, "our opponent – and I've got a feeling I know who that is – still only has four players, and one of them thinks he's on our side. That doesn't look like much of a game to me."

"Doesn't it?" Yuuko demanded, fixing her apprentice with a stern eye. "Haven't you been paying attention? This is a game where the players can make up their own rules as they go, Watanuki. And the reason our opponent is so dangerous, the reason he doesn't need more players, is that if he gets his own players into the right positions, he can start moving about our pieces." Her hand darted from the Prince, then the Mage, the Knight, and finally the Cat. Behind the small animal figurine, a large pair of ghostly wings unfolded, casting a shadow over the entire board. "And if that happens," Yuuko said, her voice low and ominous, "we lose, Watanuki."

Watanuki swallowed. "What happens then?" he asked.

"War, of course. That is what he wants." The Head Magician's eyes darkened with a sorrow that stretched across ages, and for the first time as her apprentice, Watanuki found himself wondering how old she was. "It will mean the destruction of Nihon, and perhaps some people would think that was a good thing. But it does not end there. The Mage's Circle will be dissolved; its members hunted down and killed. The balance will be destroyed, all reason will crumble. Our opponent will not only make war on Nihon, and later Valeria; he will make war on Clow. In the name of good, of virtue, he will destroy the foundations of his own country."

"Why?" Watanuki demanded, horrified.

"Because he thinks control is the same as goodness. Because he thinks virtue can be learned from rules alone. Because he thinks the gods want to rule the world. But mostly because he wants something he can't have. He wants to undo his past wrongs, and he thinks that can be done by changing the world. But there is no undoing, only forgiveness. And you don't get that from changing the world. That comes from changing yourself. And that's the only thing he can't do."

In the silence that followed, Yuuko reached into her velvet bag and fished out one last piece, carved from black sandstone and catching the light in tiny pinpoints all over the surface, like the sky on a cloudless night.

"Another King?" Watanuki asked, glad for the distraction.

"Once again you're technically right," Yuuko conceded solemnly, but then she smirked. "But ultimately wrong nonetheless. She's a Queen."

"How am I supposed to know that if the piece looks like a King?" Watanuki muttered.

"You can't. And that's why you shouldn't make assumptions."

"And which side is the Queen on, then?" Watanuki wondered acerbically, scowling at the piece. Yuuko gave it a long, thoughtful stare, and then eventually put it right in the middle of the board, the space usually reserved for moving centre pieces.

"I don't know," she declared. "As for now, I suppose she remains an antagonist. But she is not on our opponent's side, not even in the way that Ashura can be said to be. And in the end, she might turn out to be our greatest ally. But then again," Yuuko smiled darkly, "she might also destroy our only hope.


End file.
